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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26902576">Fall for a Shooting Star</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster'>BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha Keith (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Comeplay, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Omega Shiro (Voltron), Rimming</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:13:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,704</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26902576</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As part of the human diplomatic team working with the fledgling Mamora alliance (and the only omega), Shiro is doing his best to be useful. So far, that's mostly included being friendly with everyone on the Mamora base. Shiro likes to think he's doing a good job - except with Keith, who seems to avoid him at all costs.</p><p>Rather, he tries until Shiro volunteers to help him with a nearby mission to prevent an attack on their diplomatic talks. Then, assumptions and secrets come to light.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Shiro (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>398</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/gifts">GoldenTruth813</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic is both for and dedicated to GoldenTruth813, who posted this prompt on Twitter and very patiently tolerated all my questions and delays in filling it. Thank you, darling!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I wish to know if we have caused offense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro gives Kolivan a polite smile and wonders why he was the one called to the Mamora leader’s office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, Shiro doesn’t mind at all that Kolivan wants his help. The cultural exchange between humanity and his people is a delicate thing so far. Shiro is more than happy to offer his opinion if it’ll help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But surely, Sam Holt would be the obvious choice to ask. He’s the actual mission commander. Shiro is...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he’s a lot of things. Officially, he’s the humans’ pilot. But now that he’s flown their brand-new, alien-improved ship to the Mamora base, Shiro’s role is more nebulous. Mostly, he does his best to be friendly and likeable to their new allies. On the side, he digs for cultural and historical knowledge from their hosts. That’s less for the mission and more his own personal curiosity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere along the line, Shiro has become more than just a bored pilot. The Mamora have opened up to him. They seem to find him likeable, or at least trustworthy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(All but one.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Shiro has to guess, he would bet it was when he beat Antok in a sparring match. After, the Mamora seem to treat him with more respect and speak with him more. But he has no actual proof of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he does have is Kolivan, standing in front of his desk, arms folded behind his back. His stern face and large form should be intimidating - would be, except Shiro is slowly getting better at reading Galra body language. He’s not angry. He’s concerned. Maybe even stressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t offended anyone,” Shiro assures him. He folds his arms back as well, metal and flesh alike, as he automatically mirrors Kolivan’s posture. In humans, it encourages a friendly bond. In the Mamora... well, who knows. It hasn’t annoyed anyone yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan’s ear twitches and his frown deepens. His eyes track off of Shrio and over to the hallway, in the direction that the human quarters are. “As you say. But the reactions around the rooming situation have been strained. Is there something we can do to make them more livable to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah. Shiro had hoped the startled reactions were subtle to aliens. It seems not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro gives another smile, this one softer and more real. “There’s nothing wrong with them, I promise. I think most of us were just surprised at the arrangements.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan’s ears both twitch back. He straightens up further. “Something can be changed if the room organization is incorrect.” The offer is polite, but his head is ever so slightly cocked to one side. He doesn’t get what the issue is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why would he? Shiro hasn’t explained. No one has, for obvious reasons. It’s embarrassing to even have to say, especially to aliens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again, there’s absolutely nothing wrong. There’s just... habitual expectations on our planet.” Shiro fights back a wince at Kolivan’s intense stare. “On Earth, it’s unusual for secondary genders to be assigned together when there are enough rooms, unless they are related.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan stills. His head cocks the other way. “I see,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a relief when it turned out the Mamora had similar dynamics to humans. However, they completely lack humanity’s (deeply outdated) stereotypes. They don’t vary treatment by gender, aside from basic medical needs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that also makes it hideously embarrassing to explain that some humans still hold onto old stereotypes, and that human cultures haven’t fully broken away from such antiquated beliefs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back when they’d originally exchanged information on their two planets, the Mamora had been shocked to hear about the negative reactions to something as innocuous as same-dynamic attraction. Shiro can relate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a problem, like I said,” Shiro continues, keeping his voice firm. He meets Kolivan’s gaze directly, trying to project his sincerity as much as possible. “No one is upset or insulted. As I said, it’s a habit. We were surprised, but no changes are needed. We’re all professionals here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan eyes him, then finally nods his head. He steps over to his personal console and activates it. A screen appears in front of him. “I see. If that acceptance changes, let me know. I can rearrange the room access.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The offer is kind enough, but the tone is flat. Clearly, Kolivan thinks the whole issue is silly. Which it is, but it only adds to the faint hint of condescension that occasionally rears up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro understands. Really, he does. To the Mamora, Earth is a backwater little planet, barely advanced enough to waddle out of their own solar system. Thank fuck they don’t have anything like the prime directive keeping them from offering technology or aid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humanity is </span>
  <em>
    <span>young</span>
  </em>
  <span> to them. Mamora culture is ten thousand years old. Even before that, the Galra were among the most advanced species in the known universe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So the way they act makes sense. That doesn’t mean Shiro enjoys playing into their expectations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” Shiro says, still firmly. “There’s no problem at all. No one here has those sorts of hang-ups.” Those exist on Earth, but anyone who can’t handle basic differences in human genders definitely shouldn’t be on a mission to work with aliens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan eyes him one last time, then nods. He flicks his fingers, and the map of the base is replaced with scrolling, alien script.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His questions have been general, vaguely referring to the entire crew. That seems to be the norm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro is still grateful he’s not being asked if he, as the only omega on the mission, has a problem. He’s fine with his roommate. Hunk is tidy and quiet, which was all Shiro could have hoped for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, okay, Shiro could do with a roommate who isn’t so damn </span>
  <em>
    <span>curious.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hunk wants to know about everything, which includes things like ‘how Shiro became the youngest person to ever lead a mission’ (the unspoken question being ‘while also being an omega’). But Hunk’s questions aren’t that focused - they range from intensely personal, to opinions on dinner, to general gossip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s tiring, to be frank. But that has nothing to do with an omega rooming with a beta, and everything to do with Hunk being nosy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you have any more questions?” Shiro asks. He drops his arms to his side in trained military-respectful readiness. If Kolivan feels comfortable asking Shiro possibly awkward questions, he should do so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because, well, Shiro is bored. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is an odd thing to say on an </span>
  <em>
    <span>alien spacecraft.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But Shiro can’t understand the Mamora databases, and there’s only so much time he can spend with those that live on base. They have their own responsibilities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The best part has been the lessons Shiro had with Thace on the different ships in their hangar. But they’d only gotten to the small, personal crafts before the session ended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at the-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan’s dismissal is interrupted when the door swings open, without so much as a knock. That seems to be the Mamora way - they never announce their entrance. Shiro suspects their hearing is good enough that they hear each other coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is impressive - as far as Shiro can tell, they all move silently. He’s been startled more times than he cares to admit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro manages to hide his surprise at the sudden interruption and simply turns to face the noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t manage to disguise how he freezes when he sees who is in the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith steps into to Kolivan’s office, eyes bright and head held high. He’s wearing the full Mamora uniform, but with the helmet pulled back. It shows his sharp features and his pale purple skin, as well as two darker stripes that run from either side of his jaw to just under his eyes. His dark hair is pulled back into a low braid, slung over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a deep breath, Shiro swallows back the distant pang in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith is undeniably handsome - graceful and strong in equal measure. Many of the Mamora are too alien to be immediately attractive, but Keith doesn’t have that problem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That would be tolerable if it was just physical. But Keith is more than that. He’s usually quiet, but when he speaks he shows his dry sense of humor and keen wit. More than once, his flat comments have made Shiro stifle a laugh. In the training room, he’s fast, strong, and moves with his blade like he was born with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith is also the only Mamora who doesn’t like Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s worse than projected,” Keith says, utterly without preamble. “I tracked them to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only then does Keith seem to notice Shiro in the room. His eyes go wide and his casual, if focused, posture becomes suddenly tense. If he was the cat that Lance compares the Mamora to, he’d be totally bristled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro keeps his expression professional and calm, despite the way his throat tightens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows he can’t be everyone’s favorite person. Shiro isn’t that unreasonable. If Keith’s personality doesn’t mesh with Shiro’s, that’s completely fine. He’s more than welcome to feel that way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It just hurts, coming from someone who Shiro is so immediately attracted to. And confusing. Shiro doesn’t know what he’s done to cause such a cold distance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith avoids eye contact with him and has no patience for Shiro’s questions. He leaves the room quickly whenever Shiro enters. For someone who is often gone on missions, he’s still managed to make it clear he’s not happy in Shiro’s presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now he’s staring at Shiro, as if his existence in Kolivan’s office is made to vex him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kolivan had a question for me,” Shiro explains, when Keith doesn’t pick back up his report. He nods to Keith, then to Kolivan. “I believe we’re finished. I’ll go.” He turns to the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait.” Kolivan holds up a huge hand, palm up and fingers curled up. Even in Shiro’s limited experience, he knows it’s the standard Mamora gesture for ‘stop’.  “You may stay. This concerns your people as well. Continue, Keith.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s lips press thin, but he gives no other sign of his feelings. Instead he nods deeply again. “Greetings, Lieutenant.” His eyes flicker over Shiro’s face one last time, before he turns firmly to Kolivan, as if shutting Shiro out of his mind.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan looks between them. His posture shifts minutely, like he plans to say something, but in the end he goes still without comment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment of heavy silence, Keith continues. “My tracking was successful. However,  the targets were more daring than we’d assumed. They’re already on Chulak, and have melded into local dissonant groups.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan takes a slow, deep breath, then lets it out just as carefully. “I see. That’s troubling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing between the two, Shiro hopes for context that’ll explain what they’re discussing. But he can’t put it together just from those bare details. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith cocks his head. His expression is still calm and professional, but his eyes keep snapping to Shiro as if he can’t forget he’s there. His nose flares, like he can pick up Shiro’s scent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, good luck to Keith if he wants Shiro’s real scent. The Garrison has him on so many suppressants that he might as well not have a secondary gender at all. It was part of the requirement for even being admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Galra are aware of our talks with you,” Keith says. “And of our plans to bring the Alteans in to meet you. We knew there was a strong chance they’d use the opportunity to attack. Our fears are correct. They’ve sent assassins to the nearest inhabited planet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Shiro pauses, processing that. The Mamora have already briefed them on the Galra: They were once a single race. Some diplomatic break between Altea and the Galra long ago caused the then-Emperor to attack, breaking the peace. The Mamora rebelled and helped save Altea, and since then they have been locked in combat to prevent Galra expansion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since then, the three remain separate. The Alteans and Mamora don’t always agree, but they are a unified force that have prevented the Galra from taking over a majority of the universe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t aware talks with us would draw any kind of response,” Shiro finally says. For all he’s proud of humanity’s expansion over the past couple of centuries, they’re young compared to these far older cultures. He’s not sure why the Galra would object to their alliance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan eyes him, then turns to Shiro. “Their interest isn’t in your people directly. The Alteans are sending their princess, who is the likely target of these actions.” His tone is polite, but the content is blunt - humanity isn’t that important.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s exactly what he expected, but Shiro resists the urge to duck his head. Of course the Galra don’t actually care about Earth, but it’s still a reminder of that slight condescension. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see. But the talks as a whole could be a target?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Kolivan nods, satisfied. “Yes. Your people may be in danger simply from proximity. You are our guests, and we will do all we can to prevent any harm that might come to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith nods firmly, snapping to attention. It’s not the sign of rank it would be in the Garrison, instead a show of readiness. “I will head out to Chulak and end this before it becomes a threat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can go with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro says the words before he thinks them through, but he has no desire to take them back. Keith is going on a dangerous mission to face assassins. There’s safety in numbers, and Shiro can hold his own pretty well. Besides, it’s in part to help protect his own crew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith may not like his company, but if Shiro can do his part to help, then he wants to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s eyes go wide. He looks Shiro up and down and swallows, then turns expectantly to Kolivan. Despite his lack of a verbal response, his set jaw and sharp eyes are clear - he’s not interested in the offer, but he’s content to let his leader turn Shiro down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Kolivan tilts his head. He looks between both, then nods. “I see the logic in your proposal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Keith flushes at his own outburst. It turns his cheeks the same color as his stripes. “Leader, I can’t take an untrained civilian with me. He’ll be in danger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro stiffens. He doesn’t like being seen as incompetent, especially by someone he’s attracted to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Keith sounds genuinely worried instead of rejecting Shiro on principle. So Shiro makes himself take a deep breath and let it go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan merely smiles, thin but with a hint of humor. “Don’t be so sure. He defeated Antok in hand to hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith freezes. He slowly turned to face Shiro, still flushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s brows jump up, even as a smile pulls at the corners of his lips. He’s surprised Keith hadn’t heard immediately after. The news had spread among the Mamora like wildfire. But if it gets Keith to look at him with something nearing admiration, he’ll talk about it all day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a brief moment, Shiro considers asking Antok for a rematch. Even without the advantage of being underestimated, Shiro’s fairly certain he could repeat his win. It’d be showing off for Keith, but, well, Shiro thinks that’s fine. Antok enjoyed the fight, so why not?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, Shiro gets more out of it than impressing Keith. He’s always taken pride in his ability to outmatch opponents who, by initial guesses, should far outclass him. It’s been useful for knocking down the egos of prideful alphas, and it’s equally useful against alien diplomats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the same as infiltration,” Keith points out, but his objection isn’t strong. His eyes don’t move from their intense lock on Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro tries not to flush. Keith’s gaze is the same as Kolivan’s direct, boring stare. There’s no reason to act any differently, even if it makes his chest grow warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t need to be. You can do your mission as you would have. But if you need someone to help get you out of a tough spot, I can be a surprise waiting if you need. To fight, or better yet, to have the ship ready to go at a moment’s notice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, at least, Shiro can do. The little two person ships are among the few kinds Shiro has been trained in. They go lightning fast and take precise handling, but thankfully that’s already what Shiro excels at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith arches a brow. His bland expression is considering. Shiro expects him to turn to Kolivan for reassurance, but instead he gives a sharp nod. “Fine. We leave in a varga. Be there or I’ll leave you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, he goes as silently and abruptly as he arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro tries not to bristle at the lack of a goodbye. He knows it’s a culture difference and it’s not meant to be rude. At least, he hopes it isn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he turns to Kolivan. “Thank you for your confidence. Would you please inform my commander where I’ll be? I need to get ready and I won’t have time to track him down before Keith leaves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan rocks back on his heels. Shiro gets the impression something about this whole situation amuses him. Why, Shiro couldn’t possibly say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will. I would hurry. You would not be the first or the last that Keith has left behind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, at least it’s not just Shiro. He nods his head to Kolivan. “Thank you again.” Then he turns and heads for the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps his pace steady and calm until he’s out of Kolivan’s office, then jogs off to his rooms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro  needs a shower if he’s going to be in close quarters with a Mamora - he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> their smell is better than humans. Even if Keith won’t be able to smell his dynamic (and likely wouldn’t care if he could), Shiro would rather smell freshly washed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Shiro cleans himself off, he can’t help his excited smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, it’ll be difficult to be in close quarters with Keith, both because of his chilly attitude and Shiro’s attraction. At least his suppressants will make sure even a Mamora can’t smell his interest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s a small price to pay. Shiro’s excited to go to an alien planet. One inhabited enough that the Galra can insert their own agents, which implies it’s lively and diverse. Obviously the mission is the important part, but Shiro’s hoping he might get a chance to explore a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An actual, real life alien planet. The first Shiro will ever be on. They’ve only been to the Mamora base so far. Shiro has seen pictures of the Altean delegation, but they haven't met yet, much less journeyed to Altea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was lucky enough to stumble into first contact when the Mamora found them mid-mission on Kerberos. But that’s not enough, not for Shiro. He wants to experience it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(And if he gets an opportunity to prove himself to Keith, well, Shiro’s not going to complain about that. It would be nice if his crush at least thinks he’s capable.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Shiro comes out of the shower, his towel tucked around his hips, Hunk is back in their shared room. He looks up, then claps a hand over his face and flops back on his bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah!” Hunk says, his darks cheeks managing to stain red. “Warn a guy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you were there,” Shiro says, amused rather than insulted. Hunk is just like this. “How did you survive a military academy, exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lots of avoiding eye contact,” Hunk replies cheerfully. He spreads out over his bed, but doesn’t remove his hand from his face. “So, what have you been up to today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not much yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yet? That sounds promising.” Hunk gives up on dramatically preserving Shiro’s modesty and sits up straight. He watches Shiro dig out his flight suit with neither interest nor disgust, merely curiosity. “What’s ‘yet?’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kolivan asked me to assist one of the Mamora with a mission.” Shiro bites back what that mission is, exactly. For all of Hunk’s good qualities, his tendency to panic is not among them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunk’s eyes light up. He leans forward like a dog scenting food. “He did? That’s interesting. With who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes Hunk a moment to place the name, probably because Keith is so quiet and not always around. “Oh, the little one? Huh. You must have impressed him. Guess you’re a proper diplomat now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro barks out a laugh as he steps into the flight suit. “If anyone here is the real diplomat, it’s you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunk beams without an ounce of shyness, because it’s true. His ability to mix Mamora and human cuisine into something delicious to both is a skill Shiro would have never predicted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back when the mission had begun, Shiro had been unfortunately sceptical of Hunk. It seemed like Lance had basically forced him into tagging along, after Lance had weaseled himself into joining his sister. But both of them have proven their worth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what are you going to be doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just flying him to a nearby planet,” Shiro says, easily censoring himself. Sam will get the full mission from Kolivan, and if he wants to share he’s welcome to. Shiro isn’t going to go spreading it around into the rumor mill. “It should be easy. I suspect I’ll be back by tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. It’ll be weird to be in this room alone. This base sounds weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro activates the suit, taking it from baggy to near skin tight. He nods distantly, because the Mamora engines do sound distinctly different from Earth-based ones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunk chuckles and finally sits back more comfortably. He eyes Shiro in his now form-fitting outfit. “Getting all dressed up for your one-on-one mission, hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s teasing. Familiar teasing, even. Shiro knows he fills out the flight suit well, and commenting on how revealing they are is a pastime among the crew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even so, Shiro can’t help swallowing hard. It hadn’t been on his mind, but he can’t say he’s against the idea of Keith finding him attractive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a silly, one-second daydream of a moment. A split-second fantasy about turning an alpha’s disdain into respect and admiration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro shakes it off almost immediately. But the moment of weakness is enough for Hunk to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Hunk says, drawing the word out dramatically. His pleasant expression goes sly and teasing. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of diplomacy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not,” Shiro says. He tucks his helmet under his arm and pulls on his boots, refusing to face Hunk. “I’m just a chauffeur.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hunk nods without an ounce of belief. “Sure, sure. And I bet that’ll really improve </span>
  <em>
    <span>relations.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Hunk.” Shiro tightens the boots and marches his way to the door. “I have to go.  I’ll see you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck!” Hunk calls, sing-song. His chuckles are audible until the doors close firmly behind Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Groaning, Shiro rubs over his face and takes a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really hopes Hunk’s teasing is just a joke and not a sign his crush is out of control. If not... well, this is going to be an interesting and humiliating little mission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But still. Alien planet. Worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That in mind, Shiro sets his shoulders and heads toward the hangars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all that Shiro’s life has radically changed over the last few years, at least one thing remains true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s nothing like the first moments of putting his hands on the controls of a ship. Alien or human, Shiro’s breath catches when he sits in the pilot’s chair. His blood roars with the engine. When he flies, he comes alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is why no one could keep him from this job, no matter his dynamic. This is why Shiro refused to quit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little two-person Mamora craft thrums under Shiro’s palms, responsive to his every twitch. It’s honestly not very different from any time he’s had to fly a new craft. The moments of tight-knuckled discovery, before it mellows into contented understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flying toward Chulak in the little Mamora ship is no different. Shiro smiles to himself as he settles onto the fastest path, then leans back into the chair. It’s padded more comfortably than the ship that brought the humans to the base, which he appreciates greatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they leave the base behind them, silence hangs in the air. Shiro keeps his eyes on the controls so they won’t slide over to Keith, standing just a foot behind him. He’s close enough to hear his breathing and sense his proximity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goosebumps rise on Shiro’s arms. He’s glad the flight suit covers them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chulak is close, but the flight is still going to take a couple of hours. Are they going to spend that time in silence? Shiro doesn’t mind the quiet, but it’s far more awkward when the source is unfriendly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith gives no sign that he’ll speak first. But that’s fine - Shiro is good at talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, who takes care of your wolf when you’re on missions?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a pause, this time thoughtful rather than stern. Keith steps forward, until Shiro can see him in his peripheral vision. “My what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, that probably didn’t translate. “Your... dog. Canine?” Shiro finally glances at Keith. He’s staring back, still unsettlingly intense, with his head cocked to the side. “Your animal.” Shiro holds a flat palm up to Keith’s hip, showing how high the wolf comes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean Kosmo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro blinks, because he wasn’t hearing a translated version. Keith’s lips formed the word ‘Cosmo’, as in the astrological body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An astonishing coincidence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s very friendly. He introduced himself to the crew pretty quickly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assume you mean he shoved his face into your own and demanded food,” Keith says. He crosses his arms, but a smile curls at the corners of his lips. His entire posture softens as he speaks about his pet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This, it seems, is Keith’s soft spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was also ear scratching,” Shiro agrees. He smiles softly, warmed by the fondness in Keith’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s actually never seen the pair together, mostly because he’s only occasionally seen either. Kosmo seems to go where he likes, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Shiro can imagine it now - Keith ruffling Kosmo’s ears or playing tug-of-war with a toy. Maybe that’s not how he’d actually play with his space wolf, but the mental image is cute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a small pang in Shiro’s chest to imagine Keith being a loving caretaker, even in his own imagination. He shoves that away with the rest of the inconvenient attraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, where does he go when you’re gone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith eyes him, lips pressed thin like he’s suspicious of the question. Finally, he shrugs one shoulder. “He stays with my mother. Krolia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Krolia is Keith’s-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course. Now that Shiro connects the dots, the resemblance is obvious. They both have the cheek stripes and purple skin. Krolia is larger, closer to typical Galra stature, and her proportions are different. But their face shape is nearly the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That must be nice. Having family nearby who can help and getting to work with your mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another side glance, but Keith nods again. “Most Mamora on this base would help. I was raised here, so they’ve known me since I was small.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s honestly precious. Shiro lets himself relax more. “I’m sure it’s nice to be around people who know you so well. But tough, too, if they sometimes still see you as a child.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shrugs again. “That was an issue at one point. But I have long since proven myself. They know I am capable.” He straightens up, chin held high, as if Shiro might doubt that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I have no doubt. But what’s true and how people see you aren’t always the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That intense stare bores into Shiro’s soul. Then Keith nods and looks away. “What of you? Are you related to any of the humans here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a fair question, considering how family-packed their mission ended up. With the whole Holt clan, as well as Veronica and Lance, it really makes the Garrison look like it’s made of relatives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro shakes his head. “No, I’m afraid not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They do not belong to your organization?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, they didn’t when they were alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith stills, then looks away. He gets tense again. “Ah. My apologies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro just nods. It’s an old wound. But he’s used to being alone, and he’s very fond of his crew. That’s enough for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s movement in the corner of his eye. Shiro automatically turns to face it. He sees Keith with his hand out, fingers splayed like he’s going to touch Shiro’s shoulder. His eyes go wide at Shiro’s sudden attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was he going to-?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Keith reaches passed and presses a button on the screen. A small map appears, showing the distance to Chulak ticking down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah, nevermind. Even if the Mamora offer physical comfort in the same way, Keith has no reason to do so. Shiro’s projecting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know your group well?” Keith asks, voice a little clipped and faster. He’s still staring at the screen and not at Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some of them,” Shiro says. He stretches his legs out in front of him, glad to be physically able to do so. He’s tall for a pilot - tall for most humans, even - so his legs tend to get cramped into small spaces. That’s no problem on a Mamora vessel. “Commander Holt and his son. The rest I’m familiar with, but I don’t know as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith cocks his head again. It makes the stray strands of black hair fall into his eyes. “I had thought you must all be close. So many of you are family that it seemed humanity values strong connections in a working unit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another fair assumption. Shiro leans back and folds his hands over his lap, flesh over metal, thinking it over. “It depends on the context. Usually not at the Garrison. This is coincidental. Our organization favors the most qualified.” Or nepotism, but that’s another discussion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s lips press thin. “And those happen to be mostly alphas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah. Shiro gives a thin smile. “But sheer coincidence,” he says, bone dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Keith narrows his eyes and stiffens, clearly displeased. But then he seems to realize Shiro is being sarcastic. “You disagree?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do. The old stereotypes are usually seen as unfair, except by... traditionalist individuals. The Garrison says they don’t favor alphas. But their recruitment numbers and high ranking officers say otherwise. It’s bias leaking in. We try to do better, but don’t always succeed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith searches over Shiro’s face. “Your Garrison accidentally enforces these ideas of dynamics?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s a loaded question. Shiro wants to bite his tongue and stay demure, because he doesn’t want to insult his organization right now. They’re trying to give a good picture of humanity, show themselves to be worthwhile allies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Shiro doesn’t want to lie. And this isn’t Kolivan, the leader with the power to shun these talks. This is Keith, who stares at him so intently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They can. They do, more often than not. But people can still succeed outside of those expectations. Commander Holt and Doctor Holt are married and successful, even if they’re alpha and beta. And there are other examples. Qualified individuals can succeed despite those stereotypes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like I did,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shiro doesn’t say. He doesn’t want to sound like he’s bragging, or saying that since he managed, everything’s fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except instead it sounds like he’s defending the situation. That it’s fine, omegas like him have narrow hoops they can manage to jump through. For the low, low cost of constant perfection, they can be treated as normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hides years of simmering frustration, of side-glances and quiet disapproval. But Shiro is here, on the most important mission of his lifetime. What else can he say?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith doesn’t look happy, but he nods. His arms cross over his chest again, like a wall between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearly, Shiro gave the wrong answer. But it’s the accurate one. Shiro’s not sure what else he could say, especially not without opening badmouthing the only group of humans that the Mamora have met.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence returns. Keith flicks open more windows. Alien text scrolls past, too fast to read even if Shiro knew the language. He says nothing, and doesn’t look over. The set of his jaw is steely, even disappointed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like that, Shiro has lost all the ground he gained earlier. Typical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t even argue, because he wouldn’t feel friendly after getting those answers either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A notice pops up on Shiro’s screen, addressed to him in English. It’s not marked as urgent, but he opens it immediately anyway. Better than listening to the quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The message is from Commander Holt. He wishes Shiro luck on his mission and tells him to stay safe. There’s a gentle reprimand as well, asking him to please try and inform Sam himself next time rather than having Kolivan carry messages after the fact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fair enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro rereads the short note several times, just to have something to do with his mind. Even when he’s scolding, Sam sounds friendly and kind. Compared to many other commanders in the alpha-centric culture of the Garrison, he’s a breath of fresh air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That attitude is part of why Shiro respects Sam so much. He’s the kind of leader Shiro wants to be - caring and nurturing, rather than a display of dominance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That opinion isn’t something Shiro’s ever expressed. If he did, he’s sure people would say his preference is because of his secondary gender.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s not. Or, at least, it’s only because his position on the outside of alpha posturing gives him a bigger perspective. Shiro genuinely doesn’t believe barking orders and demanding obedience gets the best results. Investing in those under your command does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro responds to Sam quickly, assuring him that next time he’ll try, and his sudden departure was only because of the timeframe. He’ll likely be back by evening, once Keith has had his chance to hunt down the assassins - however he plans on doing that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking of...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What should I be expecting on this mission?” Shiro asks, shoving right past the awkward silence. Being informed and helpful is more important than stewing in Keith’s lowered opinion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very little,” Keith says flatly. When Shiro glances at him, Keith shrugs. “I’m used to working on my own. I don’t need you shoving in and getting hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had no plans to,” Shiro shoots back, unable to keep from bristling. Keith doesn’t have to like him, but he can at least have that opinion for honest reasons. Not from this insulting read on Shiro’s personality. “Kolivan wouldn’t have encouraged this if he thought I’d drag you down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s jaw tightens further. He takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. “As Chulak is the closest planet to our base, they’ve long had extensive contact with us. But we don’t interfere or spend much time there aside from basic trade. This suits the governments fine, but there’s a long history of resentment from the populace, who thinks their location makes them a Galra target without any benefits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah. “Thus, the dissonant groups. But if they’re afraid of Galra invasion, why would they allow in Galra assassins?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shrugging, Keith crosses his arms and leans against the side of the dashboard. “They might not know the assassins are Galra-hired. Or they figure an invasion is inevitable, and the best way to prepare themselves is to control how it happens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That makes sense in a depressing way. Shiro nods and folds his hands in his lap as he thinks. “I assume you don’t think there’s many assassins if they’re only sending one agent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s eyes flash, and his lips curl back enough to show sharp canines. “I can take on as many as required.” But when Shiro doesn’t rise to his aggression, Keith settles back down. “But no, our intel doesn’t believe there’s many. No more than five. They’ll be experienced fighters, but this is a cursory attempt rather than a full invasion. Otherwise, yes, Kolivan would send more of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro nods. “And where are the assassins located? Generally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching over again, Keith pulls up a map of a city. “Here. This is the capital city, Bratac. And this area-” he pauses and zooms in on the southern portion, ‘- is the most common for criminal elements. We’ll land nearby and I’ll meet with contacts to get likely locations.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s heart catches. Wandering around an alien city is exactly what he wanted from this opportunity. He stares, unable to hide his curiosity. Hopefully Keith assumes it’s aimed at the mission as a whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Really, Shiro should be focused on the assassins. They’re a potential danger to the crew. But he has absolute faith in Keith and the Mamora’s ability to handle a threat so close to home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, he tears his eyes away and looks to Keith. He’s surprised to see him watching Shiro rather than the map. When their eyes catch, Keith stiffens but doesn’t look away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would it be best for me to remain in the area to go after you if something goes wrong? Or is it best to stay with the ship in case we need a quick retreat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s brows go up, like he’s startled Shiro is even asking. It must be from whatever makes him assume Shiro will interfere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes flicker from Shiro, to the map, then back. For a split second, something seems to soften in his expression. Then it’s gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Having you close could be useful in an emergency,” Keith finally says. “I’ll need to get out before we leave. It will be best to split the distance and have you in the area, but staying close to the ship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, on the southernmost portion of the city. Shiro has absolutely no problem with that if he gets a chance to explore. And it gives him an opportunity to help if need be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good plan,” Shiro says, biting back his smile as best he can. He gets to wander through Bratac. Maybe not the nicest portion, but that doesn’t matter. It’s an alien capital city on an alien planet, and he gets to walk through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith walks him through the basics of his intel from there. Shiro listens attentively, doing his best to project how seriously he’s taking this. But he also gets the impression that Keith isn’t impressed with the assassins. This is more a cursory attempt than a serious invasion. The Galra are giving it a shot, but they’re not likely to get to Princess Allura no matter what. It’s not worth wasting serious resources on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, that’s what their informants suggest. But if Keith trusts the information, Shiro does too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The conversation finally starts to flow. Keith no longer seems to be so on his guard, which lets Shiro relax and respond less defensively. It’s... nice, actually. Shiro can generally keep up, but Keith doesn’t eye him when Shiro needs context. He seems to lack some of the quiet condescension of his peers, which is a surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time they finish going over the information, Chulak has come into view on screen. Shiro pulls himself away from the conversation to focus on flying. Keith handles working with air control while Shiro takes the ship down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chulak is a small planet, with a larger sea to land ratio than Earth. Much of the land masses are covered in mountains or rocky plains. But nearer the equator, greens begin to grow and settlements appear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the center of it all is Bratac. The city is large compared to the towns around it, and is surrounded by thick, lush forest. Shiro isn’t sure if it’s naturally occurring, or if the denizens of terriformed this area to support more life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They begin at the north end of the Bratac. Here, the buildings are largest, made of dark stone shot through with natural veins of color. Brightly colored banners and overhangs litter the streets below. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they continue south, the saturated colors fade, no longer using the same, rich dyes. Stone buildings become clay and lose their gradious height, until most are only one or two stories tall. The streets become more dense and crowded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s definitely a difference in resources in this city, and even more so compared to the Mamora base. Shiro can understand a bit of the resentment. If he lived so close to the technology of the Mamora and couldn’t get access, he might be peeved too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro heads toward the southern tip of the city, looking for an open patch of trees large enough to land. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he watches, there’s a flash of light from the city directly below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instinct has Shiro turning the ship before the alarms even start to blare. Next to him, Keith snarls out something that sounds distinctly like a curse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ship twists faster than any Earth ship could. But that’s not fast enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Less than a second after the initial flash, the entire ship jolts sickeningly as </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> slams into the hull.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More reports and windows flash up on screen. Shiro barely has time to read about damage to the wings and engine. Instead, he’s pulling up on the controls. He strains to keep the ship aimed toward the forest instead of the city below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hands wrap around Shiro’s. Keith adds his Mamora strength, yanking the controls back as well. It doesn’t change their course, but it lightens some of the strain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t stop them from going down. The whole ship sinks sickeningly, like a roller coaster in the worst possible way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ground rises up to meet them. Shiro strains backward, bracing his legs and preparing. They manage to fly over the final building, and continue forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hit the first tree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trunk splinters under the force of the speeding ship. The hull in front of them buckles and the screen flickers out, leaving them totally blind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro closes his eyes on pure instinct as they hit a second tree, and then a third. The hull screams around them. The engineers sputter. The whole ship shakes like it’s falling to pieces around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arms close around Shiro. He feels a body against his side and a chin on the top of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ship hits the ground, coming to a sudden, jarring stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro does not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s yanked out of the seat and Keith’s grasp. Shiro cries out as he hits the console and flips over it. He rolls over it, then crashes shoulder-first onto the crumpled hull.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro gasps, robbed of even a scream. His body rolls and finally comes to a stop. He tastes blood in his mouth, and the air is acrid with smoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only then does the pain hit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of Shiro aches, like the aftermath of a car crash. But he’s not dead, or even too injured to understand what’s happening. They’d already been going slow enough to take in the city, and hitting the trees slowed them further. He’s been in faster fender-benders, likely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he still fucking hurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shiro!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Shiro doesn’t recognize the voice. It takes him a moment to realize it’s Keith. He’s never heard him sound like that - voice rough and low. Worried. He sounds like he’s terrified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That alone is enough to make Shiro blink his eyes open. At first, all he sees is crumpled, dark metal and the dirt below. But he focuses and turns his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ship is at an angle, aimed downward into the ground. The front probably dug into the dirt, and the resulting groove and the crumpled metal are enough to keep it upright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s also totally ruined. Much of the hull has completely ripped away, and the console lists forward like it’s about to completely break off of the ship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In front of it all, eyes wide with horror, is Keith. His hair is a mess and he has a nasty red mark on his jaw that will no doubt do the Mamora version of bruising. But otherwise he seems intact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucky him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shiro,” Keith breathes. He sags, like he’s relieved that Shiro is awake and moving, But the worry doesn’t leave his eyes or tone. He reaches out, fingers stopping just short of Shiro, afraid to touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow,” Shiro groans back. He gives a flickering smile back, as much as he can. There’s a cut on his lip that pulls when he tries, but he ignores that. “Your ship needs seatbelts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea what that is,” Keith says. “But I’ll take it under advisement. How are you damaged?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How isn’t Shiro damaged?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, that’s not fair. He doesn’t feel like he’s dying. All in all, Shiro made it out much better than he could have expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, he starts to shift himself. His right knee fiercely protests, but nothing seems actively broken. Or, if they are, nothing worse than a fracture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s hips ache fiercely, but nothing broken there. He’s able to breathe without strain, which is frankly a miracle. All his fingers work, natural and prosthetic, and though they’re covered in tiny cuts, he’s not worried for their functionality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoulder-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, that’s a problem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro groans as he rolls more properly onto his back. “Dislocated shoulder,” he reports. “Going to need to fix that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I do?” Keith asks. His voice is rough, strained. His hands are still out, as if he wants to cradle Shiro and pull him close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he’d known all it would take to make Keith like him was to crash into an alien planet... well, Shiro would have figured out a second option. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me a second,” Shiro says. He settles out on his back as best he could, squirming to give himself more room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s never had to do this before, but he knows the theory. Shiro lays his wounded out arm to the side. Then, slowly, he drags it along the floor, hand out like he wants to shake an invisible, huge hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His muscles scream in protest, but Shiro ignores that. He grits his teeth and continues to move, until his arm is 90 degrees out from his shoulder. Then higher, inch by painful inch. This would be easier with another person, but he doesn’t have the patience to explain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his arm raises up enough, something </span>
  <em>
    <span>shifts,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Shiro’s shoulder sets back into the joint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets out a shaky, whine of a breath, eyes slamming shut. Tears prickle behind his eyelids, but Shiro ignores that. He won’t cry. He’s tough enough for this, no matter what anyone’s said about him or his dynamic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Shiro sits up, panting. Each breath makes his sides ache - bruises for sure - but he’s able to move himself without horrible trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Shiro manages, even trying to keep his voice even. He can do this. He can be strong. He’s more than the stereotypes. “Everything else is manageable. What the fuck happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith stares at him, mouth gently parted. He’s pained, but not for himself. For Shiro, in that way that says someone has done something too painful to watch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What, because he can’t handle himself? Fuck that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro knows he’s not being fair. He knows that the Mamora lack those stereotypes. Keith isn’t thinking anything about his dynamic. But he’s defensive and in pain, so he’s allowed to think of the worst case scenario. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were hit by an anti-aircraft missile,” Keith says. He drops his hands into his lap, wincing. His intense gaze doesn’t flicker off Shiro for even a second. Instead he drags his eyes up and down Shiro’s body, taking in the state of him. “I had no idea they had such resources, or I would have had us taken a more subtle ship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right. They came in a specifically Mamora craft. The small kind used for one or two person missions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So they knew you were coming,” Shiro croaks out. He wraps his good arm around his stomach on instinct. He’s not badly injured there, but it just feels better to touch and be sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s expression crumples further. Now, Shiro can recognize it - guilt. “Yes. One of my informants must have told them of the mission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. Shiro swallows against a well of sympathy. Poor Keith has been betrayed. No wonder he seems so shaken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we have to go. They’ll have seen where we landed and they’ll want to make sure the job is finished.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith winces again. “You are injured. We can make our stand here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not injured enough for that.” To prove it, Shiro forces himself upright. His knees wobble dangerously and his head swims, but he’s able to stay standing. He’ll be able to walk, if slowly and with a limp. The more he moves, the easier it’ll get. “We’re sitting ducks here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can protect you,” Keith insists, voice getting rougher. He surges to his feet, fast enough that his hood falls off and reveals more of his braid. It’s only barely hanging together, most of his hair falling loose. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>protect you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s stomach twists in a complicated mixture of desire and annoyance. Yes, it’s nice to have his crush so protective. Part of his biology very much appreciates an alpha like Keith wanting to care for him. But he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> just an omega, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> need to be coddled. He’s here on a mission, same as Keith.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” he says sharply, because saying Keith can’t is a recipe for a deeply annoyed alpha. “But it’s stupid to do so. They’ll know where we are and they’ll be prepared for you. The best thing we can do is get away and regroup. Maybe catch them by surprise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith continues to bristle. Then he winces and ducks his head, nodding. “You’re right. I understand.” He presses his lips thin, then continues more reluctantly. “I do not mean to insult you with my protection.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro blinks, surprised by the comment and tone. Maybe it’s because he’s used to how he’s treated as an omega, but the phrasing feels... off. But that’s probably the translators. “I appreciate it. But let’s play this smart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agreed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith steps forward and slides his arm under Shiro’s side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the first time they’ve touched. The heat of Keith, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>shape</span>
  </em>
  <span> of him, sends a shock through Shiro. His heart speeds up, which only makes him light-headed after his painful crash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith slots against him perfectly. Shiro feels like he could lean into him and be perfectly supported. He could rest his chin on top of Keith’s head and take a deep breath of his undisguised scent. He could let Keith’s arms wrap warm and comforting around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll move faster if you let me help,” Keith says quickly, as if Shiro needs convincing. As if he expects to be shoved away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Really, Shiro should question this. To try and walk on his own. But he doesn’t want to. He hurts, and there’s alien assassins coming to try and kill them (again), and Shiro doesn’t want to leave the shockingly comforting touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good plan,” he says instead. Shiro ignores the way Keith’s eyes go wide, as if he’s stunned by Shiro’s simple agreement. “Lead the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Painfully gentle, Keith takes a step and waits for Shiro to match him. They quickly get a rhythm, and they’re able to climb out of the ruined remains of the ship and duck into the forest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s easier than it should be. Keith is taking much of Shiro’s weight, but even taking that into account it’s surprisingly easy to move around. Keith seems to match the rhythm of his movements. It keeps them steady and prevents Shiro from being jarred from side to side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It still hurts, of course. But Shiro is able to keep up a steady pace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a moment for Shiro to reorient himself. He’d only seen the forest from above, and was more focused on putting one foot in front of another than paying attention to where they went. But he realizes they’re going deeper into the forest rather than back toward Bratac.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why... south?” Shiro asks, keeping his voice low.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just for a bit. The forest is thicker here. It’ll be easier to lose them. We’ll circle around soon.” Keith tightens his grip as they pick their way through the dense foliage. There’s no path, obviously, but Keith seems to know where they’re going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro nods and closes his eyes. He trusts Keith to know what they’re doing. He knows the planet and the mission better. Shiro’s just the pilot who’s along for the ride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brows up, Shiro strains to look down at Keith. He can only see the top of his head and a bit of his face, but it’s enough to read the tension. “For what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My intel was bad, and my informants untrustworthy. I would have brought you to your death. If you hadn’t reacted so quickly, we’d have died when we were shot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro cocks his head. He hadn’t even thought about how close they were to dying from the missle. It had happened too quickly, and he simply reacted.  “You couldn’t know. And I talked myself into coming. Now you have to care for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should know. That’s my job.” Keith shakes his head, making his loose hair brush against Shiro’s chin. “I failed to protect you. Caring for you after is only right. It is good luck you are not more injured.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro gives a dry, wheezy laugh. “It was probably a little fun to watch me get flung around too, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith stops suddenly, which nearly makes Shiro tumble forward. Only Keith’s steady hold keeps him upright. He looks up and catches Shiro’s eyes, deadly serious. “It was not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Shiro’s stomach rolls with guilt. “Sorry, it was a joke. I know you’re not like that. It was just...” He trails off, not sure how to explain the humor. “I just meant because you don’t like me, it might be more enjoyable. It wasn’t a serious thought.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s eyes search Shiro’s, as intense as always. Pain creeps into his expression. “I... I don’t dislike you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s hardly the important part, and also it’s a complete lie. Shiro shrugs his good shoulder, then takes a step forward. “We shouldn’t stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are correct.” Keith matches his pace again, and they make their painfully slow way through the forest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence holds. Shiro winces, wishing he’d kept his stupid mouth shut. Even humans don’t like his morbid sense of humor. Or course an alien, one hearing him through translators, doesn’t either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did you learn to fly like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s head cocks as he glances down again. Keith’s eyes are clear and steady as he looks up. His expression is hard to read, but the admiration in his voice was obvious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thace taught me how to use one of your ships,” Shiro replies slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he’s watching Keith rather than his feet, his boot catches on a tree root. Shiro stumbles, clinging to Keith on instinct so he doesn’t crash to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith holds on tighter, stopping until Shiro can keep his balance. Despite the strength of his grip - he’s able to keep up Shiro’s not inconsiderable weight without issue - the way he holds Shiro is so gentle. Caring. He works to avoid sore spots and splays his hands like he’s cradling Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For one ridiculous moment, Shiro considers giving in and asking Keith to carry him. He very well might, given how guilty he sounds. Despite their height difference, he suspects it would be so relaxing for Keith to hold him. Secure. Safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro shivers and closes his eyes. He bits his bottom lip and straightens up, shoving away the temptation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After so many, many years of fighting for every scrap of respect he’s gotten, it’s been a long time since Shiro felt safe enough to be coddled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now is definitely not the time. Keith wouldn’t appreciate the burden, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Shiro is steady again, they continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thace may have shown you the controls, but he did not train you in an emergency,” Keith says. “I do not believe he could have reacted in time to prevent the missile from striking. But you did. Have you flown in combat before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, that’s what Keith meant. Shiro shakes his head, eyes down on his feet to prevent another clumsy bout. “No, never. We have simulations of Earth ships in old wars, but those are ancient machines even to us. I just turned away from where I saw the shot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith hums, but he doesn’t seem disappointed in the answer. His grip tightens on Shiro, not enough to be painful but holding him more securely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence again holds, this time as they both concentrate on picking through the woods. Shiro feels more steady by the moment, but he still aches horribly. At some point soon he’ll have to rest, but he’d feel much better if they were out of the woods (literally) first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith, on the other hand, seems fine. Whatever strength of instincts that kept him from being flung also seem to be holding him steady now. The only sign of strain is the way his nostrils flare with each breath. It seems to be his version of heavy breathing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a damn good thing Shiro’s on as many suppressants as he is, otherwise Keith would be getting way too much information. His dynamic, his pain, his nervousness at whatever assassins might be nearby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How much he enjoys Keith’s arms around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Shiro focuses on walking, Keith comes to a sudden stop. His grip on Shiro keeps him from tumbling forward again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet,” Keith hisses out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro automatically stills and holds his breath. Alpha commands have no effect on him when he’s not in heat, but Keith’s sharp tone is enough to make him freeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite straining his ears, Shiro can’t hear anything. There’s tiny shifts, either from leaves in the wind or small creatures. The city can’t be that far off, but he can’t hear anything from that direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro opens his mouth to ask what Keith heard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can, he’s suddenly shoved to the side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro grips at Keith as he tries to catch himself, but Keith is the one doing the pushing. He presses Shiro into space between two close, large trees, then turns so his back is facing Shiro, eyes toward the woods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro flattens himself against the bark to keep himself upright and peers in the same direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the shadows, two figures silently stalk out. They wear body suits and helmets, and have rifles held in their hands. Both of them are focused on Shiro and Keith - there’ll be no hiding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. Shit, shit shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith lets out a low, threatening rumble. It’s closer to a purr than a growl, despite the context. Like a noise a jungle cat might make when stalked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The assassin on the right takes a step forward and holds up their gun, prepared to fire. Shiro scoots back, trying to duck behind one of the trees for cover. He reaches out to pull Keith along-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Keith is gone. He’s on the first assassin, so fast Shiro has trouble following the movement. There’s a flash of light, like sunlight off of metal, and then the dagger on his hip is in his hands. In the space between one blink and the next, it lengthens to a sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one swipe, Keith cuts the rifle in half. Before the assassin can even process the change, Keith dives at him. He growls again, teeth bared and eyes darkening to gold on the edges.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t touch him,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Keith snaps out, so low and rough it barely sounds like his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s heart catches. He braces one hand on the bark as his mouth falls open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith isn’t fighting for his own life. He’s fighting for Shiro’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It must be that guilt he’d mentioned before. Keith’s belief that Shiro’s injury is somehow his fault because of the bad intel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even so, Shiro’s stomach flips. This isn’t the posturing of someone who wants to collect Shiro like a trophy. There’s no expensive gifts or bragging, no implication that he’s showing off to impress the most decorated omega at the Garrison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith just wants to keep Shiro safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first assassin goes down, and Keith raises his sword high. With another flash of light in the setting sun, it sinks into the assassins chest. They arch up, gasping, then stop breathing altogether.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tidy, quick kill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it leaves Keith’s back vulnerable to the second assassin, who also raises their rifle. This time, they point it at the base of Keith’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro moves, heart in his throat. He won’t let someone be hurt in front of him. Especially not when Keith’s fighting to protect Shiro and his crew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro isn’t as fast as he’d usually be. But he’s still large, and he knows how to use it. Shiro shoves off the tree and barrels into the assassin’s back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With their focus entirely on Keith, they’re unprepared for 200 pounds of human to slam into their side. The assassin stumbles, managing to keep their feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Shiro isn’t done. He wraps his arm around the assassin’s neck. The force yanks off the helmet, revealing deep purple fur and bright yellow, pupil-less eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Galra braces, but Shiro doesn’t stop his momentum. Instead, he lets his weakened knees crumple under him, yanking them both down to the dirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The assassin adjusts their grip on their rifle, aiming it up at Shiro. But Shiro twists so he lands on top of the Galra. With a twist, he gets his knee on their throat and puts all his weight down. His thigh shakes with the strain, but their eyes go wide and their mouth opens, taking in no air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While they’re surprised and struggling, it’s easier to yank their gun out of their gloved claws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro aims the gun right at the Galra’s exposed face. The eyes focus on the barrel, then up to meet Shiro’s steely gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fires.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Galra goes still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro takes in a deep, shaky breath, then another. Another, timing each inhale and exhale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro has never shot anymore before. He’s never killed anyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite that, there’s nothing but cold determination in his chest. If Shiro had let this assassin live, they’d have tried to interrupt the talks and likely kill his crew. They would have murdered Shiro and Keith right here in this forest if given a better chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels no guilt in killing them first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hands close on either side of Shiro’s jaw. He jumps and starts to bring the gun up, only to recognize Keith in front of him. Instantly, he settles down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Keith asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro bristles. His emotions are on high, rapid as the heartbeat pounding in his ears. “I can handle myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, Keith lets go and holds his hands up, a placating gesture. An oddly human one. “I know. You are capable. I do not doubt your strength.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s nice to hear, but Shiro’s brow furrows. Again, something about the wording is odd. He’s never had anyone reassure him quite that way before. Maybe it’s a Mamora thing?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you are injured. I wish to know you did not aggravate anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah, yes. Shiro slowly stands up. The knee he used to suffocate the Galra assassin throbs from stain, and his shoulder definitely doesn’t like him holding the gun up. But otherwise he seems to be fine. “Nothing I can’t walk off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith frowns. His fingers curl in the air, like he wants to catch Shiro’s words and crush them. But he nods. “Good. Thank you for your aid. You were impressive, though you didn’t need to interfere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro tries not to sigh. He hopes he hasn’t hit on some alpha pride thing. “They were going to shoot at your back. I wasn't going to let you get killed while helping me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was aware of their intentions. I was in the process of moving out of the way when you charged.” Keith stands up as well and inserts himself back against Shiro’s side, arm back around his waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro huffs but doesn’t argue. Maybe he was, maybe he just doesn’t like needing to be saved. Either way, Shiro doesn’t have the energy to argue. “I wanted to help. I didn’t want you hurt when you were protecting me.” He hesitates, then adds, “thank you for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could do nothing else,” Keith says. The wording sounds like it might be a stock phrase, the standard version of ‘you're welcome’ for the Mamora. But his tone is utterly sincere and his eyes are clear and steady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If there’s one thing Shiro’s learning to appreciate about Keith, it’s how straight-forward he is. He says what he means. After years of the Garrison justifying their treatment of him, Shiro can’t put into words how much he appreciates that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t try. Instead, Shiro leans further into Keith’s side, trusting him to take his weight. “Thank you anyway. We should keep moving. We don’t know if there are more assassins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are correct.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith pulls Shiro in until they’re flush, and they once again continue on in near perfect sync.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite being in pain, despite the direness of the situation, Shiro holds onto Keith in return and lets himself feel safe.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Normally, Keith isn’t fond of the noise of any city. He grew up on the Mamora base, and while it is populated, it never gets to the level of chaos of a real town. The volume makes his ears hurt and there’s so much movement that it’s hard to keep an eye on threats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today, though, it’s only a relief. For himself and Shiro, the city is safety. It affords them places to stay and hide, time to regroup and contact base. Kolivan needs to know the assassins are a greater threat than expected, and Shiro needs to be safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Keith has utterly failed to keep him so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro slumps against him, able to walk but clearly drained. He’s not said a word of complaint, despite how tired and sore he must be. His steps are steady, for the most part, though his eyes are heavily lidded like he could sleep standing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith is aware of every movement. Every breath. Every quiet grunt of pain. No amount of noise from the city of distractions could keep him from noticing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Keith has fucked up, possibly worse than any other time in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shoves the thought away for now. He’ll have to handle the consequences later, but right now his focus is on getting them somewhere safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite not being much of an actor, Keith tries to keep his posture casual and unworried as they wander through Bratac. He doesn’t really need to bother. No one is paying them any mind, caught up in their own needs and lives. But the better they can blend into the crowd, the less likely other assassins are to find them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be easier if Shiro didn’t look like he’d taken a nasty tumble, and if Keith wasn’t wearing the Mamora uniform. But right now it’s the best he can do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro sags against his side. The farther they go, the less energy he seems to have. He keeps up with Keith’s pace, but there’s a warm pressure as his chin settles on top of Keith’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I too heavy?” Shiro asks. His voice is low and rough, either with pain or exhaustion. “I know you’re strong, but I’m taller.” His eyes flutter for a moment. “You’re small.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith bites back a snort. Obviously, he is. Compared to the humans he’s maybe only slightly below average, but he’s half the height of some of the Mamora. “You’re fine. But yes, I’m small.” He looks up at Shiro, whose eyes are nearly closed. Talking should keep him conscious. “I’m half-human.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro stumbles, nearly outright tripping. Keith has to hold on tighter to keep him upright. “What?” Shiro blinks rapidly at him, looking more aware now that he’s focused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My father was human.” The past tense causes a familiar pang. Even years later, losing his father hurts. Keith also aches for his mother, who lost her mate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humans are lucky. For all they love deeply, they don’t mate for life. They can move on. Keith’s mother never will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither will Keith, now. But that’s his own problem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Shiro’s eyes search over Keith’s face, taking in his features with new interest. “It seems obvious, in hindsight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was hoping it wouldn’t be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro nods thoughtfully, understanding Keith’s meaning immediately: he didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be known as half-human to the diplomatic crew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why hide it?” Shiro asks. There’s no judgement. Merely curiosity. His feet drag now that he’s focusing on Keith more than where they’re going, but that’s alright. The city affords them more protection. Killing in the middle of a busy street will attract far too much attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith doesn’t bother to bite back a sigh. He knew the question was coming, but he still told Shiro. “I’m not... diplomatic. If my heritage was known to you, I thought you’d want me to be part of the talks. A... cultural translator. But I grew up on base. I only ever knew my father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro cocks his head, then nods. “It does put expectations on you. Has that been happening from the Mamora side?” He sounds honestly concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuckling, Keith shakes his head. “No, they’re aware of how little I know. They’ve been bothering my mother instead, not that she really knows more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro cocks his head, like the sound of Keith’s laughter is curious and he needs to pay close attention. The corner of his lips quirks up. “Ah. Well, if you don’t wish the information passed on, I can keep it to myself. But I think you’ve done well so far. Diplomatically.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I hate you,” Keith shoots back flatly. Even saying the words makes his throat tighten. It’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but he can’t explain why without making this even worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro straightens up - as much as he can while still leaning on Keith. “That’s being dramatic. I know I’m not your favorite person, which is completely in your right. But you’ve been nothing but respectful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look-” Keith winces, shoving away the urge to explain. It will only hurt Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What is he supposed to say? </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘I’ve known you could be my mate since the first time I saw you?’. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He knows how that sounds to anyone without Galra origins. Even if it wasn’t weird, he’s aware of the culture Shiro is from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro won’t want to be with another alpha, not when his entire organization frowns on same-dynamic relationships. His life will be ruined. Even if he was willing, Keith can’t do that to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Shiro repeats. He turns his face forward, focusing on the crowds and buildings ahead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith swallows hard. “I don’t dislike you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Shiro says. His tone and posture are completely polite, but he doesn’t look down at Keith again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s nothing to be done about that. Thinking Keith could ever dislike him is probably better for Shiro than the truth. So Keith swallows back the pain and focuses on the job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Further down the road, Keith spots the edge of a sign. He’s not fully comfortable in the local language, but he can at least recognize that word - ‘Hotel’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There we go.” Keith nudges Shiro with his hip, careful not to jar anywhere too sore. “Can you act drunk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s brows rise. He finally meets Keith’s eyes until understanding hits. Then he nods. “Yes, I think I can manage. Better than looking like crash victims, I assume.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, Shiro goes boneless against Keith, only barely keeping upright. His arm over Keith’s shoulders, previously for balance, becomes a slack drape. Shiro presses his cheek to the top of Keith’s head, practically nuzzling, and lets out a giggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The end result is that Shiro has practically thrown himself against Keith like a large, heavy blanket. His breath is hot against Keith’s temple, and every press of his body sends shocks through him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith has to swallow back an instinctive purr. Even knowing that Shiro is faking, he wants to take him into his arms and carry him. Shiro’s been injured. He’s had to fight. Keith desperately wants to take proper care of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he can’t. So instead he keeps his pace steady and plasterers on a rueful smile. He’s not much of an actor, but he can manage this much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith leads them into the hotel. The attendant is boredly typing at a screen but straightens when they enter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” they chirp, all customer-service smiles. “How can I help the two of you today?” Their three eyes flicker between both. While they don’t have eyebrows, the width of their eyes gives the impression of amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith nods to Shiro, who gives another giggle and hides his face in Keith’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Maybe Keith isn’t an accomplished actor, but apparently Shiro is </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> at this.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone had a bit of a spill,” Keith says, trying to project a mixture of fondness and annoyance, like his partner got roaringly drunk and needs to be looked after. “Could we get a room for the night to rest up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” the attendant says, still overly chipper. They type on the screen. “Would you like something on the first floor?  I imagine you’d like to avoid stairs right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Considering the crash they’d just been through? Absolutely. Keith would usually prefer higher floors while they might be pursued, but this building is only two stories. It’s not worth it. “Yes, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, the attendant hits a few more keys. They take Keith’s payment chip, loaded with local money for use on missions, then produce a pair of cards and hold them out for Keith to take. “There you go. Your room is 105 on the left. I hope you and your companion have a nice stay. Check out is at 10 am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Keith struggles to free one arm without Shiro tumbling. Shiro manages to hold up more of his weight without looking like he’s doing so - a feat of balance Keith can’t help but admire. He takes the cards and, with a final smile, leads them away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as Keith lets them in, Shiro straightens completely. He rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath. “That went well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Hopefully, the attendant will remember a drunken couple and not an injured Mamora, if asked.” Keith shudders, suddenly feeling chilled without the presence of Shiro against him. “You should clean up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good plan. No sense getting infections.” Shiro holds up his hands, one of which is dotted with tiny cuts from their crash. The metal one is scuffed and dirty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith locks his limbs so he won’t react. He wants to take those hands in his. Clean them off and show them the gentle care they deserve. Worship the rough palms and long fingers that so deftly saved them both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, he’s so stupid. This had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>manageable.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Then they crashed, and he did the dumbest thing possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro opens the closest inner door, then huffs when it turns out to be a closet. His next try gets him the bathroom. He touches a point on his suit, which goes from sinfully tight to utterly lax instantly. The shoulders loosely fall away, revealing pale skin and the curve of his spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the door closes and Keith is left staring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head, Keith tries to shove away the </span>
  <em>
    <span>feelings</span>
  </em>
  <span> that have been crowding him. Instead, he wanders past the entrance hall into the bedroom, so he can rest while he waits for Shiro to finish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, he freezes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s only one bed in the room. A large one, which looks shockingly plush and comfortable for this part of town. But only the one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course. They’d acted like a couple, so they got a room for a couple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith is an idiot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, Keith will just have to sleep on the floor. The carpet looks perfectly comfortable, so that’s no issue. There’s not a chance in hell he’s going to allow Shiro to suffer when he’s injured, but Keith will be fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, though, there’s no reason not to take advantage. So Keith climbs on, sprawling out on his back, and takes a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through the wall, Keith hears the water turn on, then the dull noise of a body interrupting the spray. Occasionally, Shiro’s bare feet will move, smacking on the tiled floor. His deep voice mixes with the noise, either small grunts of pain from his cuts or sighs as the hot water soothes his muscles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith is hyper-aware of Shiro as he’s never been. He can’t stop himself from focusing on every little movement and noise. Before, he’d certainly noticed Shiro in every room. It was impossible not to, with the pull of attraction constantly drawing his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Shiro isn’t just a potential mate, now. Shiro </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> Keith’s mate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Keith only has himself to blame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All this time, Keith has kept a steady hold of his heart. It didn’t have to mean anything that Shiro drew him in like gravity. Despite what fiction says, there’s no mates at first sight - just potential. Just possibility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Keith had limited that risk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d avoided the humans as best he could, and Shiro at nearly all costs. He had no desire for the humans, with their cultural issues, to find out Keith was so hung up on one of their own alphas. He didn’t want to deal with the fallout of that, or it to be known that he was half-human.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which was why it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>infuriating</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Kolivan had decided to allow Shiro to join Keith’s mission. This was supposed to be his excuse to get away, not to spend time </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It could have been fine. Awkward, but acceptable. They’d go, Keith would take out a few assassins, and then they’d head home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until Shiro’s fast reflexes had saved them. Keith is fairly certain he could have repeated the maneuver in the same situation, but he knows very, very few Mamora who could. The fact that some untrained human managed is shocking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then they’d crashed. Shiro had been flung like a ragdoll into the hull, then been so very still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Keith had completely lost control of his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In that moment, Keith had released his iron grip on his attraction, on that potential. He’d been too worried about Shiro, too impressed by his skills, to even think of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, when they touched, Keith’s fate was sealed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, Keith has imprinted on Shiro. Shiro </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> his mate. Not potentially, not tantalizing. For life, it will only be Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro, who is an alpha in a culture that enforces an attraction only to omegas. Shiro, who has put in so much work and has so much talent. Shiro, who clearly loves his job and his organization, even if he disagrees with the stereotypes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would be kind, Keith knows. Shiro wouldn’t think badly of Keith. But it’s unlikely he’s explored any ability to be attracted to his own dynamic. Even if, by some astonishing fate, he’s willing...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith can’t ruin Shiro’s life. Not when this connection is entirely Keith’s own fault. He didn’t need to imprint. He didn’t need to lose control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith is the one who fucked up, and Keith is the one who’ll deal with the consequences. Let Shiro continue through his life. He deserves it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Keith just won’t have a mate ever. That’s fine. He hadn’t had one his entire life and been fine. He’s never needed anyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro lets out a long groan that echoes in the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s stomach flips. He could almost mistake the noise for </span>
  <em>
    <span>want.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, he’s so stupid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, the water stops. Keith listens, unable to help himself, as Shiro steps out. He hears the rasp of the towel on bare skin, the rough scrubs as Shiro wrings water out of his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then silence. A long pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith sits up, worrying despite himself. Is Shiro more injured than he’d thought? They’d managed to walk here, but maybe it aggravated a wound. And that shoulder... Keith shudders to think of the sound it had made when it snapped back into place. Then Shiro had to fight with it-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Because Keith had failed to adequately protect his mate.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opens, snapping Keith out of his worries. Shiro wanders out, a towel wrapped tightly around his waist. It leaves the rest of him completely exposed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a lot to be exposed. Plenty of skin, and for the first time Keith can see his prosthesis goes all the way up to his bicep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s also flushed - probably from the hot water. Shiro slumps forward, barely noticeable, but Keith can spot the subtle curve to his back and shoulders. He’s probably still sore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro gives him a rueful smile and holds up his discarded suit. “I don’t suppose this is the kind of hotel that offers bathrobes, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s brow furrows as he repeats the word back. He knows the words ‘bath’ and ‘robe’ individually, but the mash of them together doesn’t ring any bells.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it. I’ll check.” Shiro goes to the closet and opens it again, this time actually looking in. The rack is empty, though there’s an extra blanket on the shelf above. Next, he checks the drawers, which are also empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re looking for new clothes,” Keith realizes, brow furrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro presses his lips thin. “I doubted there would be any, but I might have gotten lucky. This-” he shakes the suit. “-is in a sorry state.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith takes a deep breath and catches the scent of sweat and blood on the fabric. While Shiro hasn’t bled much, the suit must have soaked up whatever was there. The whole thing is crumpled and definitely doesn’t look pleasant to wear, especially to bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instincts roar up in Keith, demanding he provide for his mate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shoves that down ruthlessly. What is he supposed to do? His own suit is far too small for Shiro, even as stretchy as it is. He can’t leave to get anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which leaves one option. Keith swallows hard and tries not to dwell on what that’ll mean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can go without,” Keith says. “I know what humans look like. You won’t shock me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s cheeks go an even darker shade of pink. Apparently, he has some kind of modesty streak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not a human trait - if Keith doubted that from his father, he’d know from the diplomatic crew. ‘Modest’ is not a word he’d apply to any of the Holts or Veronica. Hunk is outright boastful over his skills, and Lance is the absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>opposite</span>
  </em>
  <span> of modest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So this is a purely Shiro trait. As if he has anything to be modest over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose my boxers will do,” Shiro says, voice lowering. His eyes duck down, and his reluctance goes beyond modesty, now. Instead, it’s outright reluctant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why? Shiro has the ideal alpha human build. He shows no nervousness over his prosthetic arm. Does he fear Keith will harm him? But that flight suit offers little protection, so why would he only be fearful now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever his reason, Shiro steps out of his towel. He firmly refuses to look over at Keith as he steps into his undergarments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he straightens, Shiro seems to have a hold of whatever was bothering him. Instead he nods to Keith. “The shower is all yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Keith says, mostly by habit. “I will use it shortly. I need to contact the base first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro nods agreeably. He hesitates, then eyes the other side of the bed. “Do you mind if I lay down? I’m... sore.” The last word comes out reluctantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course he’s sore. They crashed, and Shiro was flung bodily from his seat. He didn’t seem so self-conscious of that before. What changed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith scoots over to give Shiro more room. “You needn’t worry. I will make sure you are not in frame, so Kolivan will not see your undress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro hesitates mid-step. A small smile curves his lips and he looks at Keith through his bangs. “That’s thoughtful of you. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring the pride that runs through him, Keith nods. “It’s only reasonable.” The least Keith can do for his poor mate, if he’s so uncomfortable with nudity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro climbs onto the bed, sprawling out face-down. He lets out another groan and stretches his limbs out as far as they’ll go in forward and backward. Then he goes limp and quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After eyeing him to make sure Shiro is just settling, not hurt, Keith activates the communicator on his suit. At this distance, it takes several dobashes to connect and the signal must remain stationary. But now that they’re in the relative safety of the hotel, that’s no longer an issue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Kolivan picks up. His face fills the small window. “Keith. Has something happened? Your ship’s signal vanished.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith resists the urge to wilt. He hates failure, and hates it more now that it’s caused his mate such pain. Having to confess how wrong he was to Kolivan only makes it worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were fired upon when we reached Bratac air space,” Keith reports, as inflectionless as possible. “Lieutenant Shirogane was able to avoid the worst of the shot. But we crashed and were attacked. Two assailants were taken care of when they attacked us. We’re now taking shelter in a hotel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan draws himself up. His ears inch back, a sure sign of his temper. Keith braces for a scolding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it doesn’t come. Instead, Kolivan nods, his eyes narrowed. “Our sources were clearly compromised. Remain where you are. I will send additional support to aid you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Needing help chafes, but at this point Keith can’t argue. He nods back and presses his lips thin. “Understood. I will rendezvous with them-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will not,” Kolivan says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s shoulders tense. He has to resist the urge to dig his claws into the bedspread. “Leader, I wish to redeem myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a pause. “No redemption is necessary,” Kolivan says. “This is not a punishment. You have a new mission. Is Lieutenant Shirogane harmed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith glances past the screen. Shiro has moved his head to the side so he can watch without getting. He gives a bland smile and extends his thumb from his closed fist. It takes Keith a moment to recognize the gesture - a ‘thumbs-up’, which denotes the situation is fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He sustained minor injuries,” Keith reports, because it’s true. He catches Shiro pushing out his bottom lip, clearly ready to argue, but Keith is determined to tell the truth. “But we were both able to walk to the city and get shelter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kolivan’s shoulders shift, which means he’s probably folded his arms behind his back. “Protecting the Lieutenant is now your top priority. You are to care for him and keep him safe. I will not have him sustain further injuries or worse when we assured his commander of his safety.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah, yes, that wouldn’t exactly look good from a diplomatic statement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Shiro calls, loud enough for Kolivan to hear even if he can’t see. “I don’t need to be cared for. I can stay in the hotel by myself if need be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Does Shiro want him to leave?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, he doesn’t seem resentful or annoyed. This is probably merely a reaction to being told he’s not capable. Given the environment he was raised in, Shiro likely takes such comments to heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not willing to take that risk,” Kolivan returns. His eyes flicker, instinctively trying to determine where Shiro is in the room. “However, this is not just for you. Keith’s arrival was known, and they were prepared to retaliate. Likely, they know what he looks like and his capabilities. He’s best used protecting you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, it’s Keith that bites back a huff. He’s fine. Just because the assassins know his face doesn’t mean they can take him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he’s not going to argue if Kolivan wants him to watch out for Shiro. That’s what Keith wants to do anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understood. Have you tracked my signal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Kolvian replies. “Once they’re finished, the team will retrieve you. Until then, please keep outside communication to a minimum. A signal to base might give away where you are hiding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if Keith needs that reminder. But verbalizing it is probably to keep Shiro informed, not Keith. So he nods back. “Understood. I will wait to hear from the team.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With an incline of his head, Kolivan cuts the connection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith takes a deep breath, then lets it go. Just him and Shiro in a small hotel room. It’s already early evening, and it takes several varga to arrive at Chulak even if the second team left this very tick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ll be here overnight at a minimum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Letting that settle in, Keith looks over to Shiro. He’s still watching, eyes heavily lidded. His cheeks are still flushed, despite how long he’s been out of the shower, and there’s a hint of moisture to his brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The worries about injuries come roaring back. Would Shiro hide something serious? Given the alpha stereotypes on his planet, he might feel the need to constantly project strength. But surely that wouldn’t come before staying safe?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” Keith asks. His eyes flicker over Shiro’s face, trying to detect any discomfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s expression tightens. His eyes roam away to the wall. “I’m fine.” When Keith only continues to stare, he sighs. “My stomach is uncomfortable and I have a headache. I’m not injured, but I suspect the excitement of the day might be getting to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Keith’s heart clenches with sympathy. He has no medicine to offer, even if Shiro could pinpoint what exactly was wrong. “I do not believe you have been here long enough to pick up a virus. Perhaps rest will aid you. Do you believe you can comfortably eat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro presses his lips together as his whole body goes tense. Now that he’s explained, the nausea is clear. “No, thank you. We’ll try in the morning. But you should eat. It’s been a long day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eating when his mate can’t? Keith bristles at the very idea. But he reminds himself that Shiro can never know, and even if he did humans might not find that so rude. “I can order something light. If you feel hungry later, you can try something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closing his eyes, Shiro nods. “Yeah.” He presses his face more firmly into the pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had Shiro already been feeling unwell when he left? It sounds like it had started after the crash. It could truly be a delayed reaction to the stress and pain, but Keith resolves to keep an eye on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the moment, Shiro seems under control. Keith wants to reach out and soothe, but he knows that’s crossing a line. “I’m going to clean off,” Keith tells him, because if Shiro is sensitive then it’ll be best if he smells clean. “I’ll order after.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good.” Shiro doesn’t pick up his face. He squirms like he’s having trouble getting comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith hesitates, not sure if he should leave Shiro be. But a shower will only take a few dobashes, and he’d rather do it now than later, if Shiro worsens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That in mind, Keith loosens his suit and hurries into the shower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cleans efficiently as he can, checking himself over to be sure he didn’t suffer any lasting damage from the crash. He’d kept his balance and braced himself on the console, so he’ll have bruises on his hips. That seems to be the worst of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Keith is clean, he hesitates over this suit. It stays cleaner than the human version, but putting on armor to sit in a hotel room doesn’t sound comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Keith pulls out the bottom underlayer. It fits like a tight, thin pair of pants. It hardly hides anything, but it will at least help suppress any immediate reactions to his mate so close and nearly naked. There’s no need to make Shiro uncomfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith steps out, toweling off his long hair. The facilities lack the in-built dryers that they have on base, so he’ll have to make do with drip-drying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the time Keith was showering, Shiro has flipped over onto his back. His eyes are squeezed tight and his lips are pressed thin. His back arches up off the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shiro?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro crashes back down onto the bed, his eyes flying open. “Oh, Keith,” he says. His voice is breathless, and his eyes shine. The flush has gotten worse. “Don’t mind me. I have a crick in my back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wrapping the towel around his head, Keith steps forward. “Is a ‘crick’ painful? Do you need help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Shiro gives a tiny smile. His fingers dig into the covers. “No, not painful. It’s...” He pauses, clearly searching for the words. “Do you ever stretch out until your joints creak? Before it feels... tight. Stiff. After it feels better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith nods and steps closer. “Yes, I’m aware of the sensation. Do you need aid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m fine. I was just hoping to stretch in the right way to fix it.” Shiro rolls his shoulders, tensing and then relaxing. “What did you want to do about dinner? It sounded like we shouldn’t leave the room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith rummages through the bedside table until he comes up with a tablet. After a moment of searching, he pulls up the room service menu. “Do you feel more like food?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro shakes his head and goes limp again. “No, thank you. But if you feel able, you should eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would be... uncomfortable doing that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Head turning to look at him, Shiro’s frowns. He pushes himself up on one elbow. “Oh, is that not something the Mamora do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s rude to eat and not share.” It wouldn’t be unforgivably awkward if Shiro was a stranger and had turned Keith down, like he already has. But Shiro is his </span>
  <em>
    <span>mate.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Keith can’t sate his hunger and not fulfill Shiro’s needs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro presses his lips. His eyes roam up and down Keith, openly calculating. Then he sits up properly. “I’ll try, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pausing, Keith stares at him. “You said you were feeling unwell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to go hungry because of me. So let’s order something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s... deeply unnecessary. But Keith has to bite back a smile. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweet</span>
  </em>
  <span> of Shiro to accept food when he’s feeling nauseous so that Keith won’t go without a meal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve skipped dinner,” Keith points out. Despite that, he does focus on the menu again. He hopes that the smell of food might make Shiro hungry after all. He’ll need nutrition to recover properly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith orders two bowls of a light soup and an order of grain-staple from the area. The flavors of both will be mild and the scents minimal, if that becomes a problem. He also asks for a pitcher of water. If Shiro’s flush doesn’t come down, he’ll need to rehydrate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The food comes quickly. Keith suspects there are few other guests, if any. Keith takes them at the door and gives a bland smile before quickly closing it and locking it again. He desperately hopes the staff will not pay them any mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro is able to get down a few sips of broth and several bites of the baked grains. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make Keith feel comfortable finishing his own meal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, the water is different. Shiro takes a sip from his glass, then another, and downs the rest of it in a few long gulps. He fills his cup again and drinks most of it just as quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were thirsty,” Keith notes, watching him with ill-concealed concern. “You should have said so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know until I took the first drink,” Shiro admits. He stares down at the cup as if it’s another alien device. Idly, he reaches up and brushes over his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s fingers twitch to reach out, but he holds onto his bowl instead. “Do you feel feverish?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A bit?” Shiro blinks at him. His eyes are glassy. He licks his bottom lip, and Keith forces his eyes not to follow. “Not very. Probably just part of how I’m crashing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you should rest.” Keith puts aside his empty bowl and stands. He goes to the closet and pulls out the extra blanket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro scoots to the end of the bed to watch him. “Is the room cold to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I thought it would be more comfortable. Are you cold?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro shakes his head slowly. “No, I’m fine.” His brow furrows as he looks over Keith. “...Where were you planning to sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith nods to the hallway. “The floor. It’s comfortable and I will be best positioned if our location is exposed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not.” Shiro sets aside his mostly full bowl and outright scowls at Keith. “You need to rest. You’ve been doing missions and you crash landed the same as I did. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span> you fought off assassins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crossing his arms, Keith tries not to project an imposing image. The fact that he’s in his undersuit and carrying a blanket probably ruins the effect. “I am fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Won’t you protect me better if you’re rested?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith knows that Shiro is being manipulative. He’s making no effort to hide it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that’s logic that Keith absolutely cannot refute. His mate needs protecting, and he will be protected better if Keith rests comfortably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro pats the other side of the bed. “There’s plenty of space. We’ll stay to our sides. Or are you uncomfortable sharing a bed with someone?” His gray eyes watch Keith, still glazed but focused. It’s obvious he means ‘share a bed with me’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted you to rest. You’re injured and not feeling well.” Keith hesitates, then sits on the foot of the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll sleep better if I don’t feel guilty,” Shiro returns. He pulls up the covers and slides under, pulling it up to his shoulders. He turns on his side, away from Keith, and settles down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently, that settles that. Keith eyes the back of his head, amused despite himself. Shiro is good at talking his way into whatever he wants, it seems.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smart option is to stay on the floor, no matter what Shiro argues. But...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is Keith’s only chance to share a bed with his mate. His stomach flips at the idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe this will only make letting Shiro go more difficult. But Keith can’t bring himself to give up this rare chance. He’ll have this one memory to last himself - the casual intimacy of laying next to his mate. Seeing Shiro asleep and vulnerable. Waking him gently in the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith bites his bottom lip and tries to calm his racing heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s not much else to do. The best choice is for them to rest and be ready if anyone finds them. It will be varga before the team even arrives on Chulak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That in mind, Keith also climbs into bed. He takes a deep breath as he settles down. Then he freezes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time, Keith can smell musk and a hint of salt. The natural scent of Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That wouldn’t be unusual. Keith picks up the scents of most everyone around him. But the humans do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> to suppress their scents. Hormonal treatments of some sort. Keith had spent hours in a small ship with Shiro and never caught even a whiff of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, though, he can. Whatever Shiro has taken must have worn off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes closed, Keith takes slow, deep breaths. He tries not to make it obvious that he’s taking in Shiro’s scent, instead disguising it as falling asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is his one chance to take this in. Keith does his best to memorize every note, every detail about Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The slow breaths backfire. Keith can feel his own tiredness catching up to him. His limbs go heavy as he sinks into comfortable warmth. Even Shiro’s occasional tossing and turning doesn’t bother him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Keith drifts and Shiro’s scent grows even stronger, something seems off. Heavy. Not what Keith would expect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But before he can figure out why, Keith is asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Keith opens his eyes again, the room is dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smell of Shiro is thick on the bed, sharp in a way that tugs on Keith’s still sleepy mind. Instinctively, Keith reaches out, blinking his eyes as he adjusts to the lack of light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand closes on nothing but cool sheets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro is gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shock of the thought is enough to wake Keith completely. He shoves himself upright, eyes wide and breathing heavy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shiro?” Keith calls. His voice is thick, both with sleep and fear. The scent of his mate is so thick that he can’t even tell how old it is. It will take longer to fade, which makes it more difficult to tell when he left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How did Keith sleep through Shiro’s absence? Did someone break in? Why take Shiro and leave Keith? Is he a ransom, or do they wish to hurt Shiro in particular? Why would they want that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith scrambles to his feet and grabs his knife off the bedside table. He stalks forward, heart pounding in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he notices the light under the bathroom door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The panic bleeds out of Keith, leaving him sagging on place. Shiro isn’t gone. He’s just in the facilities. He’s fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except Shiro has been gone long enough for the bed to grow cold on his side. There’s no noise like another shower or using the facilities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith glances back to the perfectly comfortable bed, his stomach sinking. Shiro was the one who said to share, but maybe he didn’t want to be in a bed with Keith. Maybe he felt he needed to leave Keith the bed to rest in their defense, and instead chose the bathroom instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s heart squeezes in his chest. Does Shiro really feel so unhappy around him that he would choose cold tile over sharing a mattress?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe, even worse, Shiro’s illness has progressed. Keith doesn’t hear retching or smell illness, but when he strains he can pick up Shiro’s breathing. It’s labored.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Decision made, Keith knocks on the door. “Shiro?” He calls again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a thump, like Shiro had startled and knocked against the floor. Then, a low, drawn out groan. “Ah!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something is wrong. Shiro is in pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With no further hesitation, Keith shoves the door open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro is indeed in the bathroom, laid out on his back on the cold tiles. His cheeks are a deeper red now, and his hair is slicked back from sweat. Inside, the scent of him is overwhelmingly strong. Keith can’t pick up anything else - not the distant smell of cleaners, not the soap and shampoo they used earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro, who stares at him with wide, glazed eyes. His mouth is parted, his lips swollen like he’s been biting them. He’s sprawled out, limbs wide as if to touch as much tile as possible. His head faces the far wall, while his legs are stretched toward Keith.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His spread, open legs. Which reveals more of his undergarments. And the cloying wetness that clings to his boxers and smears on his thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only then does the sharp, irregular scent register to Keith. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been smelling pre-heat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro is in </span>
  <em>
    <span>pre-heat.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?” Keith asks, mouth falling open. He stares at Shiro, mind scrambling to understand what he’s seeing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s cheeks go a deeper red. He looks away, lips pressed thin. As if he’s ashamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Shiro admits quietly. He snaps his limbs in, bringing his knees together and wrapping his arms over his stomach. “I’m on suppressants. I took another dose before the mission started. There’s no way this should be happening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shakes his head, because that only causes more questions. Shiro doesn’t think this is strange at all. He’s not acting like an alpha having a strange bodily reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not acting like an alpha at all, is he? Keith searches back through every memory he has of discussing dynamics with the humans. He remembers reading about how their stereotypes mean most important positions go to alphas. He remembers Shiro awkwardly defending the situation, claiming there were exceptions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith doesn’t remember Shiro ever giving his own dynamic. And he’s never actually been able to smell his scent until now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Apparently Keith has been the idiot making stereotypical assumptions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s humbling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now Shiro - Shiro who is an omega, Shiro who is going into heat - stares up at him, flush and tense like he’s trying not to tremble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This has never happened before,” Shiro continues, as if Keith’s silence is doubt instead of stunned realization. “I’ve never missed a dose, and it’s been working since I was a teenager.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith opens his mouth to respond, then pauses as a new realization strikes him. “You haven’t had a heat for that long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking away again, Shiro closes his eyes tightly. His grip on his stomach gets tighter. “No. That’s why I didn’t recognize it earlier. I should have known before. We could have gotten separate rooms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely not.” Keith steps forward, as if he can physically stop even the hypothetical idea. His fists clench at his side. “And what if we’re found? You won’t be able to defend yourself in this state.” Horrifically, that’s the best case scenario, but Keith doesn’t even want to speak about the other possibilities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro visibly bristles. “I could manage,” he snaps back, teeth bared. Despite that, he makes no effort to move from his supine position. “They haven’t found us yet, and the other Mamora are coming to help. You don’t have to be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My job is to keep you safe.” That’s not the right tactic. Keith knows it’s not. But it’s the first thing that comes out of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro sets his jaw, stubbornness taking over his whole expression. It’s in wild contrast to the shiver of his limbs, or the heavy scent he’s putting off. “Then just go back to sleep. I’m fine here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now Shiro’s clear headed. But what about later, when the heat truly hits?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro will have his free will. He certainly has the self control to keep himself in the bathroom rather than throwing himself at anyone he doesn’t want. But it won’t be comfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without even any physical aids, Shiro will suffer. His body will turn against him, demanding more, demanding contact. And if he hasn’t had his heat in at least a decade...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith steps forward and kneels next to Shiro. He reaches out, but stops himself before he touches. “I can help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s eyes snap on the offered hand. His lips part and his eyes shine. His whole body arches toward it, like even the tantalizing offer of touch is drawing him like a magnet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But all at once, he snaps back away and focuses. “That’s not necessary,” Shiro says, his voice astonishingly collected. If they were talking over a voice communicator, Keith would have no idea what state he’s in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro meets his eyes and scoffs. “Is this about protecting me?” He asks, voice bitingly cold. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith sets his jaw, refusing to be pushed away by Shiro’s defensive tone. “It’s not that. It has nothing to do with the mission. I want to help you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t even like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This again. Keith can’t help it. He lets out a dark, humorless bark of laughter, because Shiro could not be more wrong. “I do like you. Very much. More than I should.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s mouth falls open. His arms fall away, loosening the wall he’s put up between them. But then he looks away again, jaw clenching. “The scent is getting to you, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s head snaps back around to look at Keith. His eyes shine, so hopeful and so </span>
  <em>
    <span>vulnerable.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. Well, if Keith wants to help with this, he needs to be honest. He can’t imagine what Shiro’s reaction would be if he helped with the heat, only to find out the truth after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mamora- and Galra too-” Keith swallows. “We have an evolutionary trait. By scent, mostly. An understanding of who we match with biologically. It’s a... draw. Like gravity. The first moment we met... I felt that for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro pushes himself up on his elbows. His legs remain tightly locked together, and shivers run through him. Even in preheat, the symptoms are so strong. The real thing is going to be powerful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you say something?” Shiro asks, his voice small. He hasn’t fully relaxed, but there’s a light in his eyes. Hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith can only try to be worthy of that hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew it would be strange for you,” Keith says. “Most species aren’t like us. Even if they feel a pull or an attraction... for us, it’s not temporary. It’s for life. If we respond to the feeling and imprint on someone, that’s the only person for us. We’ll never feel that draw or find another mate again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Shiro breathes. “That... yes, I can see why that wouldn’t be the first thing you’d want to say to someone.” He bites his bottom lip, considering. “Why not say something later, though? And is it safe for you to help? Will that make you imprint? I don’t know how that works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shrugs. This time, he’s the one to look at his lap. “I didn’t want to say anything. I knew you’d be kind. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind. But...” He winces. “I thought it wouldn’t be good if an alpha was showing interest in you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Straightening, Shiro cocks his head. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because of what you’d said about your culture and expectations. And... assumptions that I made. Because of your rank and being chosen for this mission, considering.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro blinks slowly, clearly still confused. Then, his mouth falls open as the realization hits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro falls back and bursts out laughing. “You thought I was an alpha?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said most everyone in powerful positions was one!” Keith shoots back. He’s glad Shiro’s reaction is amusement, but his laughter stings Keith’s pride. “And you match the profile of one for humans. And- I don’t know.” He covers his face with his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s chuckles slowly fade. “You’re not the first to guess that. Or the last. Pretty much everyone in my life assumed I would be. You’re right that I don’t advertise it either. Usually it just gets me annoying responses. So I keep it quiet out of habit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parting his fingers, Keith frowns. “You should not have to do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro smiles back, soft and gentle. “I don’t think so either. But sometimes it’s easier. But the Mamora don’t care about same dynamic relationships. Why hide your attraction? Did you think I would be offended?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Keith says immediately, shaking his head hard enough to send his hair flying. “Never. I said before that I knew you’d be kind. I didn’t know if you’d share my attraction, though. And I didn’t want to cause problems in your crew or organization.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro stills. He takes Keith’s hands and holds them in both of his own. His skin is already far warmer than Keith’s. “You were willing to let go of someone you could love for your whole life because of that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith shrugs, because to him it’s obvious. “I wouldn’t want my love to make my mate’s life worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro gives him another smile. Then, with sudden force, he yanks Keith forward by the hands. Keith leans forward, pulled by the tether of his arms, and is too surprised to react when Shiro takes his face in both of his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now only inches apart, Shiro’s gray eyes are startlingly serious. “You should have said. It would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> choice. Taking the decision out of my hands and picking what’s best for </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> is exactly the kind of shit I hate from alphas. Don’t ever do that again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith swallows hard, his own eyes wide. This close, it feels like Shiro’s thick scent is suffocating him. “You’re right. I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” Shiro kisses his forehead, then pushes Keith back until he’s sitting properly again, rather than nearly falling forward. “It’s sweet, but still wrong. Remember that for next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith bites back a wince. There’s not going to be a next time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Shiro doesn’t notice. Instead he braces himself back on his palms, back arched like he’s once again trying to stretch out a ‘crick’ from his spine. “So, the imprinting thing. Can you help with my heat and not do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Keith considers lying. Claiming he’s perfectly capable of not imprinting. Because technically, it’s true. No matter how much sex they have, Keith’s feelings won’t change. It’s too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Shiro’s huge, dark eyes in front of him reminds Keith what a bad idea that is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s too late,” Keith says. He averts his eyes. “It doesn’t have to change anything for you. But I already did. When we crashed and you went flying, I was worried and I... I lost control. I imprinted. I imagine that imprint might have affected you, and that’s why...” he nods to Shiro’s current state.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long silence. Keith continues to stare at the tiles rather than meet Shiro’s gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Shiro finally says, so soft and quiet it’s impossible to read his tone. “I didn’t know. Is that... just like that? You can’t undo it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Undo an imprint? Undo this bond to Shiro, even if it’s one-sided?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith can’t help his whine of pain from even the idea. “No. Never. And even if I could... I don’t think I would.” It would be no different from ripping out his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A palm connects with Keith’s cheek. He jolts and focuses on Shiro, who looks - apologetic. Sympathetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here it comes. Rejection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith braces for the inevitable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry that happened,” Shiro says. “I genuinely can’t imagine that kind of... loss of autonomy. And I can’t say... I can’t say forever. Not when we’ve had so little time together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slamming his eyes shut, Keith takes a deep breath to control himself. Pain wells in him, like some wild creature has come alive and run its claws through his chest. “I know. I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So how about a date?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...What?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith snaps his eyes back open and looks at Shiro, who gives a tiny, shy little smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like you,” Shiro says. “I’ve always thought you were attractive, and funny, and smart. It hurt that you didn’t seem to like me, but I accepted it. I don’t have your kind of draw or imprint. I can’t make decisions about forever, not yet. But I’d really like to give it a try. I want to say yes, but one day at a time. For now. Is that okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Keith breathes, because it’s so, so much more than he could have hoped. It resonates with Keith, reminds him of his parent’s relationship: his father had been the one to keep saying yes. To having an alien stay with him, to having a child with Krolia, to come with her to the Mamora base, and to live among aliens until he passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro isn’t Mamora. But the fact that he might </span>
  <em>
    <span>choose</span>
  </em>
  <span> to stay anyway, despite the lack of an imprint...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That might mean more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Keith repeats. He leans forward, moving closer to Shiro. “May... may I kiss you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro doesn’t reply verbally. Instead, he smashes their lips together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s wonderful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their lips hit too hard, Shiro’s lip catches on Keith’s sharp canines. Their noses jam together when Keith tries to adjust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith has always resisted wondering what it would be like to kiss someone he’d imprinted on. It was too foreign, too vulnerable. And since Shiro entered his life, too possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Keith had no idea how his body would </span>
  <em>
    <span>sing.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  He wants to claw himself closer, eliminate every speck of open air between them. He wants to swallow Shiro’s quiet little whines of need and let them warm him from the inside. He wants to taste his breath against Shiro’s lips for the rest of his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even so, Keith pulls back. He takes a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s hands wrap tight around his upper arms. Leaning forward, Shiro chases his lips, giving another begging little whine. The glaze in his eyes has grown, becoming brighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The promise of relief is kicking Shiro’s heat into full gear. They won’t have much time until he’s utterly incoherent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith jolts forward, brushing his lips gently against Shiro’s again. He can’t deny those begging eyes, the need in his voice, the ever thickening scent of want. But he manages to pull back again, because he needs to speak, not slide his tongue between those bitten lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bed,” Keith manages. “It’ll be more comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t care,” Shiro shoots back, his voice a rough rumble. He scrambles forward, sliding his thighs over Keith’s as he settles into his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even through his suit pants, Keith can feel how slick Shiro has gotten. He’s utterly soaked through his boxers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because of Keith. Because Shiro is his </span>
  <em>
    <span>mate,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and that’s triggered a heat powerful enough to overcome the humans’ suppressants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Growling, Keith grabs Shiro’s ass, too turned on to be gentle. He keeps his claws in, not willing to hurt his mate. But his finger tips sink into the flesh and muscle, pulling his cheeks apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro whines and shoves back against Keith’s fingers. “Yes,” he breathes, head falling back. His dark hair stands up wildly, drenched in sweat. “In. In, please. In </span>
  <em>
    <span>now.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith licks up the tempting line of Shiro’s exposed throat. He rumbles against the delicate skin, feeling the frantic heartbeat just below his lips. He tongues the point where the pounding is strongest, delighting in the effect he has on this beautiful man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Keith has no intentions of denying Shiro anything, he plans on doing so at his own pace. He might only have this once chance to make love to Shiro and prove how good he can be for his mate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s going to make this count.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That in mind, Keith shifts his grip on Shiro’s ass. He rumbles again at the slick against his palm and fingers, but doesn’t let it distract him. “Hold on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat, clearly not following Keith’s plan. But he still obediently holds on, wrapping his arms around Keith’s shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shifting his weight, Keith carefully gets to his feet with his arms still full of Shiro. He’s heavy, but Keith is Mamora.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not the carry that Keith had imagined - Shiro bundled sweetly in his arms, pressed into his chest to protect him. They’re decidedly top heavy. Shiro wobbles dangerously, not prepared to be moved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that doesn’t seem to matter. Shiro moans like it’s punched out of him. “Strong,” he slurs out, pressing his face into Keith’s hair. “Like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s chest puffs out and his shoulders straighten. He would take far more strain than this if it made Shiro moan like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro adjusts his grip, helping keep himself in place as Keith carries him out of the bathroom. He hums thoughtfully into Keith’s hair, nuzzling in and taking deep breaths of his scent. “Mm. Could fuck me against the wall.” He arches down, pressing his ass into Keith’s hands yet again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith nearly stumbles, blindsided by the mental image and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> that surges through him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could hold Shiro up, brace him against one of the plain walls of their hotel, and let gravity do the work for them. Hear the delicious, pleased moans of Shiro as he’s bounced. Feel the slick drip down their thighs as Shiro comes again and again, moaning so beautifully right into Keith’s ear-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. Keith closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to control himself. But that only gives him another lungful of Shiro’s thick scent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet,” Keith manages to force out, each word muffled by his clenched teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro whines again, this time urgently. When Keith gently tilts him toward their one bed, he falls back easily. His limbs splay out wide, revealing the tent in his undergarments. The boxers are wet with slick, and there’s another dark spot near the head of his cock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please?” Shiro asks. He sticks out his bottom lip. His narrowed, calculating eyes show he knows how deadly his pout is. “Need you in. So deep. Please, Keith. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Keith.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith waivers again, wanting so badly to give Shiro everything he wants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he also doesn’t plan to be manipulated tonight, not when he has higher goals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So instead, Keith climbs over Shiro. He takes hold of his wrists and shoves them further down into the plush mattress. “You’ll get my knot, but only when I’m ready,” Keith says, lower and commanding. “And only when you’re good for me. Will you be good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s eyes go wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith stills, not sure how Shiro will react. His mate is a natural leader, and one who has struggled against the perceptions of omegas for this position. He might resent-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s worries are interrupted by a moan, louder than all of the others. It echoes in the little room as Shiro grinds himself down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Shiro babbles out, at the same volume. “Yes, yes. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. Please!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, Keith loves hearing Shiro like this. Open, brazenly vulnerable and wanting. In the throws of early heat, Shiro utterly lacks the polite decorum he uses as a wall. He just has </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he trusts Keith to fulfil them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Keith will. He swears it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surging down, Keith kisses him again. This time is no less passionate, no less messy. Shiro’s tongue presses against his own, with the same needy urgency that he’s been grinding into Keith’s hands. His grunts of desire are muffled by their lips together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that he’s made his point, Keith pulls his hands away from Shiro’s wrists. He hovers over them, prepared if Shiro starts to grab or force the pace. “Don’t move these for me. I want to explore you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro nods, frantic and jerky as a puppet. “Yes. I will. I’ll be good.” His eyes shine with hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith rumbles out his approval. Now that his hands are free, he can move them down, sliding his palms over Shiro’s full chest, taking the time to scrape his fingers over his nipples. They’re swollen and peaked, and Shiro makes delicious noises when they’re brushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, Keith will keep in mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He travels further down, tracing the lines of his abdominal muscles and swooping down the sharp ‘v’ of his hips. Only then is Keith’s exploration stopped by the waistband of Shiro’s boxers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I take these off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro nods and squirms his hips up, making it easier on Keith. His fingers grasp at the open air. “Yes, yes yes yes. You too. Off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith cocks his head, remembering Shiro’s reactions to his commanding tone before. So he decides to experiment. “Is that how you ask for something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s cheeks flush further and his mouth falls open. “Please,” Shiro manages, his voice cracking on the word. “Fuck, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, Keith leans in and kisses his chest, right over that frantically pounding heart. “Good boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro </span>
  <em>
    <span>moans.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith has the passing thought that the level of noise is going to be a problem, soon. But instead his mind is focused on two things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first being that Shiro’s reaction doesn’t seem to be necessarily obeying the orders. Instead, he seems to be reacting to Keith </span>
  <em>
    <span>giving</span>
  </em>
  <span> them. The tone, and the praise when he obeys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second is the revealed skin as Keith peels away Shiro’s undergarments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s cock is as flushed as his cheeks, already fully hard. The head beads with fluid. It bobs as he moves, straining to keep his hips up to help the boxers off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind that, Shiro’s cheeks and thighs shine from slick. His muscles work, straining as he keeps himself upright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith pulls the boxers away enough that they settle on Shiro’s knees. Then, because he has such good access, he slides his fingers between Shiro’s cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers glide over the wet skin until they catch on Shiro’s hole. The muscles clench, hard enough that Keith can see Shiro’s abs jolt and strain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro gives another loud whine. His fingers clench tightly into fists and he shakes his head from side to side like a wild thing. “Keith, please. Please, please, please. Inside. I need you inside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith considers giving in. Sliding his fingers into that plush, wet hole and pumping them until Shiro comes for the first time of the night. The first of several - even if his heat could be satisfied from one orgasm, Keith wouldn’t be. He plans on continuing until Shiro is completely wrung dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, Keith satisfies himself with running his tongue along Shiro’s thigh. He swipes through the slick, enjoying the musky taste, then up to his hips and over his cock. Keith wraps his lips around the head and gives a firm suck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro </span>
  <em>
    <span>yelps </span>
  </em>
  <span>as his balance goes out. His legs slide out from under him. His hips and back smack back down onto the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sudden motion pulls the cock from Keith’s mouth. He follows it, and this time laps over the patch of bitter liquid that has collected on Shiro’s stomach. His tongue dips into his belly button, then follows the planes of his abs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith,” Shiro whines. He shoves his head back against the pillow, his legs tense against the urge to buck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith doesn’t even pick his head up. He continues to explore, travelling back up to Shiro’s chest. This time, he takes his time, flicking the tip over each of the nipples so he can enjoy Shiro’s whines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh,” Keith soothes. “We’re going to get interrupted if you keep up that noise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro huffs. “Can’t help it,” he says, once again openly pouting. Then his eyes again shine. “You could give me something else to do with my mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In response, Keith scrapes his teeth against Shiro’s nipple, careful to avoid the points of his fangs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro doesn’t scream, only because his voice cracks at the start. He arches his chest up, and his hands snap to Keith’s shoulders. A moment later he masters himself and returns them to the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Keith murmurs, breathing out the word over Shiro’s chest. The ghost of hot air makes him squirm harder. “So good for me. Listening so well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith.” Shiro’s voice cracks again, this time thickly. When he looks up, Shiro’s expression is twisted and his eyes bright. “I want that. I want to be good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who has ever told this beautiful man that he wasn’t?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Keith soothes, leaning up to kiss him properly. “You are. I just want to show you. Let me love you. Let me make you feel good. I want to prove what you mean to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crumpled expression doesn’t shift. Shiro kisses back desperately. “Okay,” he breathes out, voice smaller now. “Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith nuzzles one cheek, then the other - a soothing gesture that probably does nothing for Shiro. “I promise, I’m going to make this perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s legs wrap around Keith’s hips. The cracked expression morphs into another pout. “Perfect would be if you kept your word.” His heel pushes at the waistband of Keith’s pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah, right. Keith had managed to ignore his own throbbing cock, caught up in exploring. But he did promise Shiro, so he nods and pulls back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro whines, but also untangles his legs so Keith can move. His eyes snap onto Keith’s crotch, hungry and curious in equal measure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, Keith’s chest puffs out. His mate very obviously desires him. He can’t think of a better confidence booster, not even beating Kolivan in a spar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It could be entertaining to tease Shiro more. But now that he’s reminded of the pants, Keith has no desire to remain contained. Instead, he pulls them down and signs with relief as his cock is freed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro whimpers, his mouth falling open. It could have been a noise of confusion or fear, but the naked want in his eyes couldn’t be disguised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To a human, Keith’s cock is probably an odd sight. He lacks the hanging scrotum they have, and while the basic shaft shape is the same, the details are not. The head of Keith’s cock is rounder and continues down a third of his shaft, curving like a sphere. When that begins to thin, a new one starts, and then a third.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Overall, Keith’s cock is thicker than what he’s been told is average for a human, but not longer. Combined with the knot-like ridges, it creates a series of hills and valleys unlike the human’s fairly evenly wide shaft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s eyes run up and down Keith’s cock. His fingers twitch in the air again. “I want to touch,” he breathes, finally turning his gaze up to Keith.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s tempting to tell him no, just to watch him squirm at the command. But Keith imagines it’s best to let Shiro get his bearings now, so he nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, Shiro snaps up so he’s sitting. He scoots closer, legs still spread, until his thighs drape over Keith’s knees. Reaching out, he runs his finger around the top of the first sphere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith grunts, straining to keep from bucking into the touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s eyes shine at the sudden motion. Mischief bleeds into his expression. His forefinger and thing curl around the shaft, meeting at the tip and forming a circle. He then runs them up and down the whole shaft, deliberately slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Growling, Keith grips Shiro’s hand, keeping it still. Then he rocks his hips forward, fucking into the grip like he plans to fuck Shiro soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like it?” Keith asks. He knows the answer, because he can see Shiro’s greedy expression, but he wants to hear it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro nods, licking his lips. “I do. It’s thick. It’s going to feel so good going in and out.”  He watches Keith use his hand, squeezing occasionally to vary the pressure. “Won’t it feel better than this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith leans forward and nips Shiro’s bottom lip. “You promised you’d be good for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tiny whine bubbles out of Shiro, rattling against Keith’s teeth. “That was before I saw you,” he mumbles out, but nods. Then he continues to watch his hand be moved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith waits, prepared for the follow up question: does Keith like Shiro’s cock too? (Obviously.) Did he know what a human male would look like? (Yes, he was given a human sexual education before they knew how he would develop.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the glaze over Shiro’s eyes says he’s too far gone for those kinds of conversations. Maybe after his heat is satisfied. For now, Keith has a duty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Keith drops Shiro’s hand and plants his own in the middle of his chest. He pushes until Shiro flops back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro goes without a fight, though he whines again. His legs close around Keith’s hips, as if he’d try and leave the bed before they’re finished. He doesn’t beg again, not vocally, but his eyes are so big and wanting that words are unnecessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than continue what he was doing, Keith takes each of Shiro’s wrists in his hands. He brings them to his mouth, running his thumbs over each palm, metal and flesh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Earlier, he’d wanted to celebrate these hands. Get to know the skilled fingers that had helped save them. Keith loves watching them work - long, broad, and clever. Shiro works his hands so efficiently around whatever task he’s been assigned. Other times, they tap against his thighs or the table, idle distraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In all forms, Keith loves watching Shiro’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that in mind, Keith kisses each palm, starting with the prosthesis. He laps out over the dip in the center, then slides his mouth over the thumbs in turn. The prosthesis has the sharp, metallic taste, while the other is bright and salty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro whines again as he squirms. Each touch makes him jolt, and once again he begins to squirm. “Keith,” he mumbles out, but the protest is more half-hearted now. Instead, his eyes are bright with something less primal and more emotional than heat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith takes the fingers and holds them, bending them so he can kiss the knuckles. He meets Shiro’s misty gaze, but doesn’t respond verbally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Shiro who breaks first. He turns his head away and slams his eyes shut. Swallowing hard, he squirms again. “Wouldn’t you rather explore somewhere more fun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to know all of you,” Keith replies, drawn into honesty by Shiro’s almost shy reaction. “I want to show how much I appreciate every inch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The color of Shiro’s cheeks grows deeper. “Oh,” he breathes out, tiny and nearly undone. His eyes stay closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith gives the back of each hand another kiss, then gently sets them down on the bed. He climbs forward and kisses over each of Shiro’s cheeks, under both eyes, the center of his forehead, then down to his lips. “Is that so surprising?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not every time,” Shiro says. “But not during heat. I thought it would be...” He shrugs one shoulder. “More animalistic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It can be. It might be later. But it can also be this.” Keith kisses his lips yet again, then along his jaw and to his neck. He lets his lips rest on the pulse point. “I love feeling the effect I have on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro barks out a laugh. It has just a hint of some deeper crack of emotion, but he manages a smile. “You can’t tell by looking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can. But I like this way too. It’s true. It can never be faked or hidden.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not hiding anything from you,” Shiro says. He spreads his thighs wider again, putting himself on display. “Any of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith smiles against his throat. “I know.” Even so, he lets himself relax, counting along with each heartbeat as it thuds past his sensitive lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Resting here puts his nose right next to one of Shiro’s scent glands, though. With each breath, Keith can feel the cloying scent of heat sink further into him. The throbbing of his cock grows worse, and he becomes hyper aware of every place their skin touches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keith,” Shiro moans. His hands settle on Keith’s side, this time not guiding but simply clinging. “Please. I can’t...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Keith breaks. He had vague plans to kiss and lick every inch of Shiro, but he’s hit his limit. Instad, he hums against the pulse point, then drags himself down again. He gives a quick kiss to Shiro’s cock as he passes, just to hear another whine, then settles between Shiro’s legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching down, Keith takes hold of both those thick thighs and raises them up. He’s paler here, dusted with dark hair, and a tiny little brown splotch of skin. Keith gives that mark a lick, but other than the color it’s no different than the rest, so he moves on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith presses forward, until Shiro’s knees are folded up to his chest. It displays those beautiful cheeks and spreads his thighs enough to expose the shining moisture and dark, swollen hole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro stares at him, framed between his own thighs. His mouth hangs open, lips bright and kiss swollen. His eyes are wide and hopefully, and his hair is in complete disarray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks beautiful on any day. But this is something else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still keeping eye contact, Keith leans down and licks a stripe between Shiro’s cheeks, lapping up the slick. He points his tongue, running the stiffened tip along the rim of Shiro’s hole for added stimulation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro </span>
  <em>
    <span>keens,</span>
  </em>
  <span> loud enough that the noise echoes in the room. “Keith,” he groans out, lower and breathier than any time before. “That-” he cuts off, one hand grabbing at Keith’s hair, the other gripping behind one of his knees to hold himself further open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s all the permission Keith needs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He goes crazy, licking furiously over Shiro’s ass and thighs. Burrying his face in, he drags his tongue over the hole, pulling the puckered muscle further apart. More slick gushes free, which Keith laps up with open hunger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s legs shake, his whole body trembling as he fights to keep the position throughout the onslaught of pressure. “Keith!” He calls again, louder now. Eyes glazed, he blinks up dazedly at the ceiling, mouth falling open to pant wildly between each moan. He arches, chest thrust into the air, toes curling as he strains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s gorgeous when he’s lost to pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s also going to get them a noise complaint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith narrows his eyes, mouth still flush against Shiro’s hole. He gives a brush of his teeth against the rim, and is rewarded with the way Shiro howls with pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, yes, as much as Keith loves hearing these noises (and fuck, he does, it feels amazing to undo his mate so completely), this can’t continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith pulls back and wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. He ignores Shiro’s frantic whine, or the way his legs snap out to wrap around Keith’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t be so loud, lovely,” Keith says, intentionally keeping his voice soft and gentle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite that, Shiro’s eyes go wide and he falls back, as if Keith had snapped at him. “Feels so good,” he whines, his dark eyes huge and pleading. There’s no artifice this time, no calculation. He’s past that, and instead desperately wants to please him. “Was I bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s heart cracks. Leaning forward, Keith cups Shiro’s cheeks and kisses him softly. “No, no, you’re so good for me. I love you, you’ve been perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro wraps his arms around Keith’s neck and arches up into him. He whimpers into Keith’s mouth, kissing him like he wants to live off of Keith’s breaths. “Please, please, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Feels so good. Need you, need you so much. I can’t, I need you in, I’m so empty, I need-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alright, clearly they’ve played enough. Shiro’s heat has well and truly kicked in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The best way to keep Shiro quiet would be to muffle him - there’s no way he’s going to be able to think clearly enough to quiet himself.  Some sort of gag could work for that, but Keith can’t imagine enjoying anything that would keep him from kissing Shiro, even a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, there are Shiro’s boxers. They could scrunch up tight enough to fit in his lips, and Shiro could taste his own slick and now exactly how much Keith’s imprinting has affected him, be reminded of his own need...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s stomach flips, just like it did when he thought about the wall. Another time, but not now. Not when this might be his only chance. Besides, that’s better if he can get Shiro’s permission first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That leaves a few other options. The pillow could work, but that would mean Shiro would have to face away from Keith. So that’s obviously not going to happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s only one plan that’ll work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keth shifts, hooking one arm under Shiro’s thigh to help hold it up. He leans forward, pressing their chests together. He can feel Shiro’s heartbeat against his own, beating frantically against his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Keith leans forward and kisses him, lips slotting together tightly to muffle as much sound as possible</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro moans into his mouth. He bucks his hips, trying to get more than fleeting contact against his cock. “Keith,” he moans, but it comes out slurred and muffled into Keith’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, Keith slides three fingers of his free hand deep into Shiro’s hole. He spreads them, letting slick gush out and onto the bed. Then he crooks them, looking for a sensitive place inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams</span>
  </em>
  <span> into Keith’s mouth. His whole body tightens, and his legs spread open even wider. He lets out a sob of pure relief as he bucks down onto Keith’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he groans, powerful enough to make Keith’s teeth vibrate. “Yes, yes, in. Fuck me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Keith does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rubs the spot he found until Shiro’s whole body is tense, vibrating from need. Then he starts thrusting his fingers in and out, spreading them to simulate the width of Keith’s cock. He moans into Shiro’s mouth in return, shoving his tongue inside to match the pace of his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s cries grow louder and more urgent. He bucks again, shifting his thigh until his cock can rub against Keith’s. He clenches around the fingers, whining with urgency.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh,” Keith murmurs, trying to suppress his smile so he won’t break the seal of their lips more than necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he inserts a fourth finger and spreads them wide, trying to imitate a knot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro sobs, arches one more time, and comes. Keith feels the splash of his come against his stomach and the gush of slick over his palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bed is going to be a mess and they’ve only just begun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro sighs, going limp back against the bed. His eyelids flutter, eyes nearly rolled back up in his head, and he gives more of those tiny, satisfied whimpers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe the kindest thing to do would be to pull away and let Shiro collect himself. But Keith’s can’t bring himself to. Shiro is so soft like this, so pliant and pleasured, the picture of satisfaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So instead, Keith slides out all but his pointer and middle finger. He continues to slowly thrust those, enjoying the filthy slick that continues to drip out, and the plush heat that is Shiro’s hole. He kisses into Shiro’s now slack mouth, licking into his mouth in an equally dirty, open mouthed display of want and possession.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is his mate, nearly insensate from the orgasm that Keith gave him. This is Shiro, out of his mind with pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith is going to enjoy every second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His own cock throbs, eager to truly knot Shiro. The room is thicker with need, now, as the scent of Shiro’s heat sinks into every inch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Shiro comes back to himself, it’s slowly. The first sign is the fluttering of his hole around Keith’s fingers. Then his tongue flicks against Keith’s and his breathing picks up. Finally, he grabs at the back of Keith’s head and pulls him down into a firmer, deeper kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Shiro murmurs. His voice is rough from all the moaning, but his tone is clearer after his orgasm. “That was... man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith pecks his lips and smiles at him. “Feeling better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feeling </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> good, thank you.” Shiro rocks in place, trying to stretch. Keith lets go of his thighs so he can properly extend his limbs until he sighs in contentment. Only then does he finally remove his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro grumbles at the loss, but satisfies himself with another kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think you can get some water in you?” Keith asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro eyes him, then tracks his eyes pointedly down to Keith’s still hard, now-dripping cock. “You sure that’s what you want to do next?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith slides a finger under Shiro’s chin and tugs up until he looks. Keith keeps his expression soft, trying to project how serious he is. “What I want to do is take care of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s cheeks go red again. He leans forward to hide his face in Keith’s shoulder. “Fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Keith says, utterly without remorse. It’s just true. “Water?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A few sips. Then round two.” Shiro prods Keith in the middle of his chest. “I want to feel that cock inside me. And I’m not getting out of here before I get your knot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Keith replies, not holding back a chuckle. He has to twist awkwardly to get his abandoned glass of water, but he’s just barely able to snag it without moving. Then he offers it to Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro drowns half of it in one go, then gives Keith the rest back. “You too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s body isn’t the one trying to flood the bed. But Shiro’s tone is serious - downright stubborn. So he obediently drains it, then sets it aside. When he’s done, he kisses Shiro’s temple. “Satisfied?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet.” Shiro rests his palm over Keith’s chest, then pointedly drags it down. He pauses, then looks up. “Unless you don’t want to, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith kisses Shiro’s forehead, and then his lips. “I want. Very much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” With that, Shiro flips them around, so Keith is sprawled out on the bed and he’s straddling Keith’s hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a lovely view. Shiro’s back is arched, pressing his still very wet hole and cheeks back against Keith’s cock. The posture shoves out his ample chest, showcasing that his nipples are still red from Keith’s treatment earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching up, Keith cups Shiro’s pecs, digging his fingers into the flesh enough to dimple, like he did his ass earlier. The way the skin dips in, soft and warm, is fascinating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith wants to learn all the places where Shiro is soft, the places where he’s firm and muscular, the best places to run his fingers down to feel Shiro shudder against him...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You going to be able to keep the noises under control this time?” Keith asks. He genuinely needs to know, but he can’t resist the challenging note to his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro narrows his eyes at him. He rocks back pointedly, until Keith’s cock runs between his cheeks. “I’m fine. Are you sure you can manage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t the one trying to scream the hotel down.” Keith tugs on both nipples until Shiro gasps. “Not that I don’t like it, but maybe we should save that for when we’re not in a hotel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s cheeks stain a darker pink. “That was the heat,” he says, though he doesn’t bother to sound convincing. “This time is for real.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Shiro goes up on his knees and scoots back until he’s over Keith’s hips. Reaching down, he guides Keith’s cock to his hole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s eyes go wide, especially when the move puts Shiro out of comfortable pec-squeezing reach. “Are you sure-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro mets his eyes, then shoves himself down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An omega in heat is capable of taking plenty, but Keith’s cock is outside of what his species is designed for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Keith just watches, open-mouthed, as Shiro takes the first rounded ridge of Keith’s cock, then the second, then the third, with only seconds between each.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he bottoms out, Shiro’s head hangs limply and his entire face is flushed. He pants, tongue dangerously close to luling out. He shudders on each breath, and the glaze has completely overtaken him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith closes his eyes, swallowing back his own moan. He snaps his hands onto Shiro’s hips, ready to support him or help if taking such an alien cock in one go proves to be too much. Despite his intentions, it’s nearly impossible to think. He suddenly has a tight, warm, soft hole clenched beautifully tight around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shiro?” Keith manages, forcing out the words through his tight throat. He desperately wants to thrust up. Force himself impossibly deeper into Shiro. But first he needs to make sure his mate is alright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s silence. Then, Shiro slaps a hand over his mouth and </span>
  <em>
    <span>moans.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, yeah, he’s fine. Keith doesn’t bother to hide his smile, even as he rubs soothing circles into Shiro’s hips. “Having trouble again with the noises?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the heat,” Shiro insists again. He shifts like he’s going to start moving, only to moan again and drop his head. “Fuck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s grin widens. He dips one hand under Shiro, rubbing where their bodies are joined. The pad of his finger is a delicious contrast to the tight rim and wonderfully soft inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro plants his hands down on Keith’s chest, fingers curved as if he’s the one with claws. “Cheater,” he grounds out, bottom lip jutting out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because of how I’m touching you, or because of my cock?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Both.” Shiro uses his hands for balance as he finally gains control and starts to push his way up. It’s slow going, and his hole strains around the bottom most curve of Keith’s cock. When he gets over the widest point, he jolts upward until his rim naturally settles on the dip before the next curve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, Shiro’s mouth falls open. Each breath comes out hot and loud. He grunts, low and animalistic, as he keeps himself upward. Then he slams himself right back down, taking the bottom ball back into his body in one forceful go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s eyes roll back into his head. His finger dig into Shiro’s hips, holding on and trying his best to help as Shiro moves. But these on and off tease, slow and then fast, is driving him crazy. It takes more control than he wants to admit to keep from rolling them back over and just fucking into Shiro.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Shiro has the same idea in terms of pace. His eyes glaze over deeper, barely seeing as he meets Keith’s eyes. He works his hips, bouncing up and down on Keith’s cock with clear abandon. Each time he smacks his hips back down, he gives a tiny, low grunt that sounds punched out of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he adapts to Shiro’s pace, Keith starts to match it. He plants his feet and bends his legs, to give Shiro something to lean back against and so he can arch up into each thrust. He wants to grid up, lock himself into Shiro’s body. Fill him so full until the scent of Keith will never come out. Until he’s soft and pliant like he was over the last orgasm, nuzzled into Keith and so trusting. Ready for the next time Keith wants to roll over and drive back into that hole, already slick with his come...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith growls, the noise of it echoing in the little room. His grip on Shiro’s hips tightens. He adds his strength to every time Shiro rocks down, yanking him further onto Keith’s cock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah!” Shiro throws his head back, mouth once again hanging open. His hair is wild from sweat and their frantic, rutting motions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith can feel his long denied orgasm building in him. He’s been touching an omega in heat for too long, toying and pleasing, but there’s only so long he can take. His instincts claw for control, demanding he spend in his mate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro shifts his palms, moving them forward and hunching more as he picks up the pace into something frantic, animalistic, desperate. But there’s a hint of calculation in his eyes as he watches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His palms, shoved down forcefully, slowly pass over Keith’s nipples. He rubs them in tiny, firm circles, sending jolts of additional pleasure through Keith’s body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s too much. Keith snarls, jolting as his entire body tries to force himself deep into Shiro’s hole. He uses the momentum, finally flipping them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro yelps as he’s spun, smacking into the bed just as he takes Keith’s cock to the root again. But he only moans as Keith twists so he’s on top, shoving Shiro’s thighs up again to give him the best access.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith continues to fuck in, hard as he can. His rumbling moans fill the room like a drumbeat, joined by Shiro’s breathy, needy whines like primal music.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he does, the bottom-most curve of Keith’s cock begins to swell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, it makes little difference. Shiro’s hole is already pulled taut each time Keith shoves in or pulls out. But then there’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>resistance.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Each thrust gets louder, wetter, as Shiro’s hole is plugged. He forces out slick or shoves it back in as he goes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until the point where Keith can no longer pull out at all. Instead, he gives into those instincts and shoves in as deep and hard as he go. He lays over Shiro’s bent, inviting thighs and grinds his cock in, trying to get another impossible centimeter deeper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The new position puts Keith’s face right next to Shiro’s. His mate is still panting, eyes wide and pupils blown. He licks his lips, then grabs Keith by the head and pulls him into an open-mouthed, wet kiss that soaks their chins nearly as much as their thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fill me,” Shiro commands, low and demanding. “I want to be full. Come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if Shiro order was what Keith’s body needed, he comes. His whole body jerks as his spills into Shiro in sharp spurts, still tied together as deeply as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately, Shiro goes slack. His lips brush, sweet and hot, against Keith’s own, but there’s no thought to the motions. There’s nothing in his eyes but pleasure, contentment, and something like affection. Something that might be dangerously close to love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he hasn’t come yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith rumbles again, this time fondly. He nuzzles his cheek against Shiro’s, then kisses down to his neck. Shifting his grip carefully, one hand tweeks an already swollen nipple, and the other wraps around Shiro’s cock. He massages both until Shiro gives a final, thick grunt and comes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no preparing for how good it would feel, to have his mate come on his knot. No matter how many times Keith heard about it in porn, the reality was so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>more.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith’s eyes fill with white-hot pleasure. He collapses forward, once again mindlessly grinding into Shiro’s body. He can only moan and nuzzle into the hot skin below his face until Shiro stops twitching with orgasm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he blinks and comes too, Keith realizes he dropped his head right between Shiro’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An excellent place to find himself. He licks up the valley between his pecs, just to listen to Shiro groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lay like that, tangled in each other, messy with shared fluids, panting as they both try to recover from the pleasure. Keith continues to spend into Shiro, keeping them both locked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, it’s Shiro who recovers first. He pets through Keith’s hair, running through until his fingers catch on the hair tie. It’s only barely hanging on, so it’s easy enough to pull it free and toy with Keith’s hair, now free of the braid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were loud,” Shiro reports to him, a laugh in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So were you,” Keith mumbles, still into Shiro’s chest. He shifts so his cheek and ear are pressed down, letting him feel and hear Shiro’s calming heartbeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro laughs. The vibrations of it jolt through Keith’s head. “We’ll call that one a tie, then. We’ll try again another time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Keith just nods. Then his eyes snap open as he realizes the implications. He picks his head up to stare at Shiro. “Another time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm.” Shiro smiles, content and impish. “You think I’m done after just this? No way. The last hour have been worth at least a month of ‘yes’. Probably more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tone is gentle, even teasing. But Keith meets Shiro’s gaze. “You don’t have to do that. Not because of what I did. You can leave if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes softening, Shiro cups Keith’s cheek. “I don’t want to. And it’s not because of the sex, or heat, or whatever. It’s because you were good to me.” His lips quirk up. “Besides, I still want that date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Date,” Keith repeats, breathless. His chest feels too tight, full of what he distantly recognizes as </span>
  <em>
    <span>hope.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Yeah, date. We can do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. We went a little out of order, but given the circumstances I think that’s okay.” Shiro stretches his upper body languidly. “How long does your knot usually last?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not much longer.” Keith rests his chin on Shiro’s chest. “That okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely. Don’t get me wrong, it feels amazing.” Shiro clenches tight around Keith’s knot, drawing a whimper out of him. “I want this again soon. But I never liked the idea of long-lasting knots. I’d rather go another round or clean up or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith blinks out his understanding, slow and content. Likely, Shiro doesn’t recognize the body language, but he’ll pick it up. They have time. Instead, he eyes Shiro. “Well, can cleaning up wait? I want to do one more thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Licking his lips, Shiro eyes him with open appreciation. “Okay, I appreciate the stamina, but I’m going to need a few minutes before another orgasm, even with heat. I mean, if you want to keep going without that, that’s fine, but if you want my participation...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not that.” Keith’s cheeks darken. “I want to... just touch. Here.” He rocks his hips. “While you’re full.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s mouth falls open. His cheeks darken yet again. “Oh. You want- yeah. That’s... that’s fine. Good. Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not only does Shiro not think that’s weird, he apparently thinks it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>sexy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, whatever biology or fate that drew them together, Keith is very thankful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes another minute for Keith’s knot to begin to deflate. Keith grinds himself in further, mostly to make Shiro gasp and whimper, before he’s able to pull out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Keith sits up again. He holds Shiro’s thigh open with one hand. Licking his lips, he slides two fingers of the other inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro’s hole gives with absolutely no resistance after taking Keith’s cock and knot. As soon as his fingers pass through, a mix of Keith’s come and Shiro’s slick gushes free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sight alone makes Keith’s mouth fall open. He spreads his fingers wider, and is rewarded with the way their fluids puddles in his palm. Pulling away, he licks his palm clean, groaning greedily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shiro watches, lips gently parted. He clears his throat, clearly trying to get himself under control. “When we have more time to prepare, maybe you can plug me up after? Keep it all in for the next round.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A rumble forces past Keith’s lips. He climbs up Shiro again to nuzzle into his neck. “You’re perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re pretty darn good yourself,” Shiro replies, chuckling. He goes back to petting Keith’s pair. “Rest now, more later? We should try and fuck me out before the other Mamora come to find us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith growls at the idea of anyone else entering this little space they’ve made. “I’ll send them away until you’re ready. They’ll understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m your mate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith doesn’t reply verbally, but his preening is obvious. He likes hearing Shiro use those words. Calling himself Keith’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuckling again, Shiro kisses the top of Keith’s head. “Okay. For now, let’s rest so we can do this again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And for you to rest.” They did crash not long ago. Keith would worry this was too much, except Shiro only seems content, not sore. He’ll check later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Both of us,” Shiro agrees. He rolls over, throwing one thigh over Keith’s knee. He tugs Keith in close, nuzzling into his hair, and his breathing even and slow. He’s out almost immediately - and no wonder, given how long their day has been, and that it’s late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keith settles in, not quite ready to drop off. He’s content to stay so close to Shiro, though, wrapped in his warmth and scent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He loves this man. His biology latched onto him, but it’s Keith heart that’s made the choice. Maybe Shiro doesn’t have the same urges, but they’ll take it one day at a time. That’s fine with Keith.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, enough days in a row, chained all together... well, that’s basically forever, too.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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